


The Northern Theatre

by InkuisitivSkins



Series: The Cross Fade [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action, Canon-Typical Violence, Drachma Worldbuilding I guess, Eventual Romance, F/M, Military, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Romance, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 93,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkuisitivSkins/pseuds/InkuisitivSkins
Summary: Months have passed since the Promised Day was upon Amestris. Though the war is over for many, strong tension has remained in the military. All eyes are turned towards Fort Briggs at the north border, where many believe that Drachma will soon launch another attack. They will avenge their humiliation and defeat by Amestrian forces, by any means necessary...





	1. The Calm

Several months had passed since the Promised Day had arrived, its supposed assured outcome resulting in failure. Though the war was over for many Amestrians, tensions had remained at an all-time high in the military despite General Grumman taking over as Fuhrer.

Though the events leading up to Amestris' poorly named 'doomsday' had heavily improved feelings with the country's Eastern neighbor Xing, it had greatly worsened the already unstable foreign relations it held with its northern adjacent counterpart- Drachma. Their pact of non-aggression hanging by a thread, Drachma broke the agreement when it attacked the border it shared with Amestris; the skirmish serving as the final source of death that would come to complete the crest of blood carved in the southern country. Luckily, Amestris' northernmost fortress effortlessly put down the military clash- even after Fort Briggs' commander had been summoned to Central in an attempt to prevent her from foiling the plan. Even without their leader, the Amestrian soldiers holding the fort easily overcame their enemy's artillery and soldiers. Nonetheless, this event caused the one in charge of the fort, Major General Armstrong, to be reluctant to leave in the future.

As the new government took power and efforts were made in order to assist in the rebuilding of Ishval, many northern soldiers felt as if it was unfair to stay cooped up in the fort. Many wanted to be transferred down south in order to assist in the civil war-torn area's rebuilding as it was restored into a trade hub between Xing and Amestris. Despite this warranted reasoning, officers at Fort Briggs all agreed on one thing- defense should not be lessened at the border; if anything, security should be heightened. Drachma's humiliating defeat would not easily be forgotten- they knew the military state would soon try to avenge their embarrassment through any means necessary.

However, there was nothing to prepare them for what would come.

 

\---

 

* * *

 

 

There was a knock at the door.

Interrupted _again_. The numerous papers on the major general's desk fluttered as she gave an exaggerated sigh through her teeth. Forms and letters were scattered around her desk; a few laying haphazardly on the floor. Ever since the new government took office and new policies were being enacted, there was a sharp increase in the amount of paperwork for officers to do. The only thing the general liked about the late Fuhrer Bradley was how little paperwork she had to do under his rule- no matter how inhuman he really was. She set her pen down, propping up her head on the back of her wrist, "Come in."

The door opened slowly, the shrill creak echoing off the walls of the near-empty office, reminding Olivier of the tinnitus she had become accustomed to. The movement was slow, as if the force behind it was laden with apprehension, aggravating the general slightly. She did not have the luxury to waste time waiting for a door to open, no matter how trivial such a thing seemed.

A young soldier's head peeked out from behind the door, immediately making eye contact with his commander. Letting out a soft _eep_ of surprise, the soldier's body snapped to attention as his hand flew towards his temple in a salute.

"Major General Armstrong, sir," he began, his voice shaking almost as much as his legs. "I-I.. I…"

The woman rolled her eyes, impatience already evident, "Spit it out for god's sake. I don't have all day, I'm very busy." She swept an upturned palm over the mess on her work space, her face sour, "If you couldn't tell."

The young soldier dropped his salute with a soft sigh of relief. Olivier's eye twitched. "I was sent to retrieve the… th-the, um," his voice gradually diminished as the general's icy eyes narrowed, eyebrows knitting together. He seemed to shrink back slightly before he continued, "Neil would like the forms Central sent for the research on our tanks and aerosani."

"Mm," Olivier replied in affirmation. She finally broke eye contact with him as she glanced down to sift through her papers. It took her a moment, but she eventually found the ones requested. She grabbed them and forcefully extended them over her desk and towards the young soldier for him to take. Nervously clamoring over to her desk, he took them from her rather delicately before hightailing it to the door, his demeanor looking rather childish as he did so.

The major general cleared her throat, causing the soldier to freeze in his steps, one boot in the air. He slowly turned back to her, his brown eyes terrified. "First off," Olivier said, standing up behind her desk. The woman was shorter than many of her men-- the average height for a woman of her age-- but her body language enough could sufficiently intimidate any soldier, no matter the height difference. "You don't drop your salute until it is returned, and you always salute when you exit the presence of an officer. It's not only polite, but it is _protocol_. I don't care how lenient they were with you cubs in Central, but that won't fly here in the north. There's a reason Briggs is revered as the most disciplined fort in all of the army. Do I make myself clear, kid?" She asked, her voice low and authoritative.

The soldier could only nod, so much so that it seemed as if his head had the potential to snap off at any moment. He swallowed nervously, any words he had caught in his throat. He shakily lifted a hand to salute, a gesture in which the general did not return. She glared over at him, "I'd keep you in here standing like that for hours if I wasn't so busy. I don't have time to babysit-- get out of my sight, and learn your manners," she grumbled, waving him out in a half-salute, giving him a halfhearted wave of her hand in dismissal. The soldier left that room so quickly, one could say there was but a puff of dust where he once stood.

Sighing again, Olivier ran a gloved hand through her long, blonde hair. Today of all days, when she had possibly the most paperwork her eyes had ever set sight on, it was only natural that every single soldier in that fort would interrupt her. It was all a package deal, she realized. The power, position, command, stature, boundless respect, hundreds of strong and loyal soldiers…. and the endless paperwork, clueless trainees fresh from the Military Academy, old close-minded military officials, and in innumerable amount of wrongly-made assumptions about her; whether they were about her method of rule, her means of getting to her rank, and so forth. An officer's work is never done, she would always remind herself. There are no vacations for someone with a duty as important as hers, but she would not change it for the world. 

Another knock at the door broke the quiet of her office.

That was it. The major general snapped, slamming gloved fists onto the table and standing. Her strength sent several papers flying off into the air and onto the ground, the scabbard at her hip clacking loudly against the wood of the desk, "Oh _my god_. What is it this time?!"

"May I come in, General?" A familiar voice asked from the other side of the door, completely calm, the stark opposite of the previous soldier. The sound of her adjutant immediately made Olivier's shoulders relax. She'd rather him interrupt her than anyone else, if she were being honest. In fact, she'd rather him keep her company than for her to work alone all day. It always seemed easy for him to calm her down; an ability she never understood how he gained. She sat back down, instantly regretting her tone towards her most trusted soldier, and possibly the only person Olivier would ever consider a friend, "I'm sorry, Major. Come in."

Major Miles carefully opened the door, his dark facial features filled with worry. He closed the door behind him, giving his commanding officer a salute, "I'm sorry to interrupt, General."

Olivier saluted back, allowing the major to drop his hand before making his way over to her desk. Leaning down slightly, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes, hidden by his snow-blindness goggles, scanned the papers in front of the major general, "Yikes, I thought last week was bad enough. This is much worse. What can all of these possibly say?"

She only nodded, recognizing the rhetorical question, "It's absolutely dreadful. The worst part is most of these are the same damn thing! Except this one, but it's just another one of those reports from one of the scouts up top. It's all one 'supposed Drachman sighting' after another!" she complained, lifting up a paper to him just to prove her point. Miles took it, bringing it closer to his face in order to see it more easily as she continued, "Normally, I would heighten defenses even further in the event of a sighting like this, but we've been getting an absurd number of these in, and they're all eerily similar. I've already increased the number of patrols and men stationed on the roof, I can't spare anyone else."

She groaned softly, rubbing her face with both hands, frustrated, "I trust that the scouts and lookouts wouldn't cry wolf on purpose, but maybe we need to schedule some more rigorous drills for them to train with. I have a feeling most of these sightings are just bears, since it's breeding season. There's more milling about on their part than usual."

Reading the paper as he listened to his commander, Miles gave a _hmph._ Placing it back down, he took a moment to straighten up some of the papers on her desk, "I'd help you if I could, sir. Maybe you should take a day off."

Olivier sighed softly, watching as the mess of papers she had easily created was just as effortlessly organized. "I appreciate it, Miles, but you know what happened last time I left. Especially if these reports are true, I can't take my eye off this wall for even a fraction of a second."

It was Miles's turn to sigh, "Naturally, that wasn't your fault in the slightest, sir. You know how well we handled ourselves, not to mention there's no threat of an alchemy-induced doomsday at the moment. You're overworking yourself."

The major general stifled an amused smile, "True. But you know as well as I do that Drachma's planning something. Just because you sent them back into their country with their tails between their legs doesn't mean they won't come back with more strength. Drachma's a large country, and we have no way of knowing exactly how many secret bases they have near our border, or what military technology they might be developing."

Her adjutant smiled much more easily than her, "You've always been an observant one, General. I won't force you, but it is sounding an awful lot like you don't trust me in leading this fort."

"Don't play that game, Major," Olivier murmured. "You're more than qualified, and you know I'm aware of that."

"I know," Miles replied as he finished cleaning up the workplace. "Your concern is completely vindicated, sir. I was only messing with you."

"Since when do you mess around?" The woman shot him a questioning glance, blue eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Just trying to lighten the mood, sir," Miles gave her a sheepish smile in return, "I know how stressful this must be. Perhaps a drink later would cheer you up. Not with me, of course."

The general eyed him suspiciously, "We'll see later, Major. Until then, I trust you'll keep up the good work."

Major Miles gave her a nod and a small salute in reply, "Won't let you down, sir." Olivier returned his salute, and he was off.

As he exited the room, the Major General glanced back down at the papers. She had been in the middle of writing something when he had entered, and now she had completely lost her thought to the void.

"Ah, shit."


	2. Like the Dawn Akin to Dusk

The scenery was filled to the brim with dark blotted shades of blue, gray, and black. The smooth, untouched snow that blanketed the ground completely contrasted the dark night sky, which was infused with an innumerable selection of small, far-off white stars. Tall, dark mountains stretched up and extended their peaks to these beautiful lights, their edges painted with the same perfect snow that lay underfoot. No flakes fell, allowing for calm silence to engulf the atmosphere around the impervious Amestrian Wall.

Which was an unusual sight to behold, actually. Any soldier used to the harsh climate of the north would not hesitate to describe their home as cold, ruthless, and fraught with the relentless cycle of encroaching danger. Nonetheless, there was sometimes the rare, fleeting moment such as this in which all was serene and peaceful. Even the temperatures in the air were comfortable to anyone wearing appropriate gear- unlike normal, when even the most bundled-up soldiers could be caught with their teeth chattering, frostbitten and dazed with hypothermia.

Another unusual occurrence took place at this time- the major general was up and about. Around this time of night, she was either getting ready for bed or continuing an abnormally long day of work, where in the latter case, she would be confined to her office. Strangely, something had beckoned her out of the fort that evening- perhaps it was just because the weather and view were so nice for the time being. It might be a while until this peace could be felt again, considering how unpredictable the weather often proved itself.

She yawned softly, almost regretting stepping out into the snow and ruining the pristine picture of white. Still, the initial crunch that was heard as her boot met snow was all so satisfying. She started out along the side of the wall, casually strolling and taking in her surroundings. She almost never took night watch or any sort of security patrol; this walk was made purely for her to enjoy the peace and wind down from a seemingly unending day. To her left, her metallic fortress towered over her and all else in sight- powerful and impregnable. To her right, a vast ocean of white extended for miles; even passing the hesitant border Amestris shared with Drachma. The general paused, looking out into the distance and tilting her head slightly, eyebrows knit together in reflective thought. It was funny; even though all of the snow she saw ahead of her was the same in its composition and color, some of it wasn't even the property of her country. She knew that where her vision ended, far off into the white, Drachma had laid claim. Two opposing countries with differing ideals and cultures all owned and contended over this same thing- an abundance of seemingly worthless snow.  No power was to be gained from achieving rule over such a stretch of land as this, were no society was developed, no natural resources ripe for the taking. And to think, this shit is what could cause two countries to go to war.

"General?" a voice from behind her interrupted Olivier's thoughts. She flinched slightly, immediately ashamed of herself for having let her guard down. Her small, gloved hand instantly met with the hilt of her sword, drawing it in one swift motion and swinging it in the direction of the stranger. Her slice perfectly controlled and her sword obedient to its master, her attack froze before it hit its mark. The blade stilled about a foot away from her adjutant's neck, who was standing behind her with his shoulders tensed. While any other soldier may have flinched or screamed, he stood, and while he was tense, he knew his commander-- and that her mastery over both her mind and her blade were unmatched. Even if he were Drachman, so long as he wasn't attacking her, she wouldn't have completed the slice. With her calculating nature and her intelligence, she would've taken him in for questioning before killing him. 

Her blue eyes widened, quickly withdrawing her weapon. She had half a heart to apologize, but it wasn't like her to say such a thing. "You scared the living hell out of me, Major," she sighed, sheathing the sword. Her voice immediately calmed the Ishvalan, his nervous shoulders visibly sagging as he relaxed.

"Sorry, sir," he replied shyly. "I didn't mean to startle you, but it's a bit odd to see you out this late. Is everything alright?"

Olivier noticed quite an amount of concern in his question, his eyebrows furrowed as he nervously awaited her answer. It was only a night stroll, what was he so worried about?

"I'm quite alright, Miles," she replied reassuringly, using his actual name in an attempt to calm him down further. It seemed to work, since her soldier heaved a soft sigh of relief at her reply. She continued after knowing for sure that he was soothed at her reassurance, "It was just a nice night for once, and I wanted to take a short walk."

"Mm," Miles murmured. He nervously adjusted his goggles, earning a curious blink from his superior. What was he acting so nervous about? "It, uh… It _is_ a nice night, isn't it?"

The major general nodded, "It's rare to see the weather like this, so calm and quiet. It's even stopped snowing for once."

Her major chuckled softly, the soft sound heating up Olivier's cheeks. "Yes, sir. It's probably even more odd for _you_ , since you've been used to the harsh weather and all for so long. Nights like these always serve to give me a bit of a homey feel, you know? It's almost as if this weather is the closest to home I'll ever be graced with while living up here. Or, as close as Ishval can feel like home. Not that I don't like the ice," he smiled shyly. "I mean… Growing up in Central, it must be kind of nice to feel that climate whenever we visit, right?"

"Not so much," Olivier replied, earning a small questioning _hm_ from her adjutant. "I like the cold. It always provides a quick and efficient death, always encroaching and unsuspecting… Once you start to fear the worst, it's already too late. That's why it takes guts and will alone to survive out here, there's no weakness. Conditions such as these always force people's true sides to show; their true strength and fortitude able to override any preconceived notions of what survival must truly mean. Cadets _think_ they know, but they never do until they're actually exposed to it."

Both turned out to look into the snow before them. "True," Miles began with a small nod of acknowledgement. "But the scenery is also very _beautiful_ , especially during times like this. The gently falling snow, the contrasting blue and white during those clear days, when there's no storms or blizzards.. Though, it can be quite empty and lonely. I mean, look at all of it!" he said, extending a hand towards the snowy plain.

"You only say that because you're not from here," the queen said, shooting a glance towards her knight. "Where you lived, it's all hot and gritty sand. I'm sure that I could think of just as many nice things to say about the change of scenery if I went down there, similarly as how you've done in your migration up here."

"That's not entirely right. Sure, the deserts of Ishval are hot and brutal during the day, but at night…" the man smiled to himself as if reminiscing on a more simple era in his life (though in reality, it wasn't much simpler or peaceful). "The temperatures get very similar to how they are here in the daytime, windchill included. I wasn't there long enough to fully see it as normal, like the cold is up here, but I guess in a way, their paths always end up crossing in one aspect or another."

A sigh from the blonde caught his attention, causing him to realize how lost he got in the moment. "Kind of like us, huh?" The General asked, her blue eyes meeting his red ones. "You hated my very guts the first time we met, kind of like someone first adjusting to a new climate I guess. And now.." she trailed off, letting a short laugh escape her lips- a sound completely and utterly foreign to the major. He blinked, an unnoticeable blush spreading across his dark features.

"Oh, fuck it," she smiled lightheartedly. "You know what I meant, Major. Now wipe that surprised look off your mug and let's get inside. It's late, I should be asleep, and your patrol should be ending by now."

"R-right, yes, General," Miles replied. He adjusted his goggles and fidgeted as the two turned to step back inside. 

What they did not expect in the slightest was a bright light in the pair's periphery, catching their attention in tandem. They both spun on their heels, craning in an attempt to fully see what foreign manifestation had interrupted the night's peace. Olivier laid a hand on the hilt of her sword once again, while Miles's found his gun in a similar manner.

A red light rose up from the snow far off into the night- still bright enough for the two to see despite the distance they were from it. It rose at a constant quick speed; vertically moving until it slowed to a complete stop. The red of the light broke the pattern of stars in the dark blue sky; the source of the disturbance splitting off into many smaller pieces in every direction. Each portion of light fell slowly off into its own path, slowly fading until the sky was stained with a red dusty smoke, resembling the muddled stain of blood on fabric.

Miles opened his mouth to speak, though his superior breathed, her voiced stunned into softness, taking the words right from him-

"A flare."


	3. The Storm

"A.. A flare?" Miles stammered, stumbling back a step. He instinctively raised his pistol to the supposed location of where the flare had been fired, "Surely the guys on top of the wall would've seen that?"

"I don't know," Olivier replied, already beginning to split. "And we're not staying long enough to find out what that flare was for. It was red; there's no way that's a good sign."

Her adjutant quickly stumbled along after her, trying to keep up, "R-right, yes sir."

The two quickly made their way back inside the protected walls of the fort, slamming the door shut behind them. The general immediately called over a nearby soldier, harshly ordering him to sound an alarm and to rally the others. Nodding hastily, the young guard hurried off to do as he was told.

Another soldier cowered, huddled against the wall. This was what he had trained for, but he hadn't expected for such an emergence to occur so soon after he graduated the academy.

The general snatched up the furred collar of his coat in a tight fist, pulling him out of his daze so that she could look him in the eye. Her cold, blue eyes met with pure fear, "Snap out of it!"

The icy orbs glanced down at his shoulder, meeting his rank. He was very, very low on the food chain. He wouldn't be able to do much, his fear was actually _almost_ warranted.

Almost. He was still a Briggs soldier, and fear wasn't going to fly inside of this fort. 

"Gather up some men- anyone with a gun. Go out there and stay low, shoot anything that moves. Do you hear me?"

He nodded, his white military-issued hat nearly slipping off of his light brown hair. She loosened her grip on his collar, and in an instant he was stumbling down the hall, clumsily struggling to hold his rifle.

Moments later, the signal was hit. Red flashing alarms all around the fort soon sprung to life, the deep colored lights spinning as a loud drone echoed throughout the entire metal fortress. Soldiers high and low scrambled to drop their work and research, grab guns, and take to their combat and defense posts. Others, normally on the night shift, leapt out of bed, tugging on coats and boots still half-asleep. Yawns were stifled by orders being shouted. Several groups tripped hastily up the stairs and elevators, making their way to Briggs' roof, where multiple cannons stood silent vigil in the night; awaiting action.

Accompanying these soldiers bound for the fort's top were the major general and her adjutant. After years of service, Miles had gotten used to matching Olivier's quick pace. He followed her closely up the stairs-- which were quicker than having to wait for the crowded elevator, at this point. They soon reached the top; neither breaking a sweat thanks to ages of countless emergency drills.

The blonde quickly strode up to one soldier who was looking out onto Drachman territory with a pair of binoculars, "What's the damage, Captain?"

Flashing her a quick salute, the captain lowered his binoculars and handed them to the general. His eyes remained locked on the snowy night ahead of them, "Another flare was spotted to the northwest, sir. Red again. It's too dark to actually see more than that."

"Ah," Olivier replied, lifting the binoculars to look through them. Her long eyelashes brushed against the cold plastic of the field glasses as her eyes narrowed. Sure, it was dark, and maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her, but…

It seemed as if movement stirred within the umbra of the shadows cast upon the white ground underfoot. Dark, huddled masses loomed over the snow, gliding across the plain. There were only a few of them. Not enough to pose a significant threat to the fortress, but there could be more of them. They could be a scouting party, or they could be carrying explosives; the list of threats, even from such a small number of bodies, was endless. 

Protocol called for the defense of Fort Briggs, first and foremost.

"There's something out there. Load a cannon," General Armstrong spoke lowly, glaring above the binocular's lens. She handed them to Miles, who took off his snow-blindness goggles to look through them. For a split second, even in the darkness of the night, she caught a glimpse of his deep red eyes. They had always been different and foreign, an alien sight to see in such a place as this. She admired them in silence for the brief moment they were visible.

"I see them, General," He said, lowering the lenses and sporting a frown. "They're headed this way."

Olivier glared back at the soldiers behind them, "Didn't I tell you to load that cannon?"

"General!" Miles snapped suddenly, his tone urgent as he peered back through the binoculars again. The Amestrian's blue eyes widened; it was rare to hear the major raise his voice. "They've crossed our border, sir. What would you have us do?"

Silence hung in the air as the general stood in deep thought, "Don't fire the cannons yet. If what we see is what we're getting, there's not many of them, and it would be a waste of ammunition. Get some snipers up here, quickly."

On cue, several soldiers skidded to a halt in front of her, saluting in unison. She carefully took the binoculars from Miles, "Fire at will. Be clean and efficient, please."

The snipers hunkered down on the fort's top, loading their weapons and resting them upon their shoulders. Their breathing seemed to still in each of their lungs as they all took aim. One fired, the kick of the gun causing his body to flinch backwards slightly. Another took a shot. A sharp intake of breath was heard from them, but it was unknown if it was because they missed or hit their mark; it could go either way.

Several others shot down onto the snow below them, until the group of them sat motionless. One spoke quietly, "That's all of them, sir."

"Very good," Olivier turned on her heels, her coat whipping behind her elegantly. "Come, Major."

Miles nodded, following her obediently without question. They made their way down through the fort, eventually emerging out into the gentle night down below. They stepped out, greeted by several soldiers. A couple of others could be seen nearby in the dark, dragging bodies nearer. The nervous soldier from before saluted the general and the major, which they then returned.

"They were Drachman alright, sir," he began, seemingly less skittish than before. His voice still held a deep apprehensiveness to it as he spoke, his salute lowering slowly and carefully, obviously very wary of his actions now. "Most of them seem to be soldiers, too. There was five of them, and a, uh…" he trailed off, eyes cast downward as he searched for the correct words, "Well, just come see, sir."

Olivier nodded, following the soldier as he lead her and Miles over to the bodies. She was slightly annoyed at the fact that he couldn't tell her what the problem was, relying on her to see it with her own eyes.

Several other Briggs soldiers hunched around something, huddled together and speaking lowly, voices audible but unable to be deciphered in the quiet. "Move," the general hissed, to which every member of the small group lifted their head and nervously stepped aside.

The general glanced at her adjutant. She saw those beautiful red orbs of his widen in confusion, concern. Her cold ones, void of compassion, followed his stunned gaze, eventually falling on one soldier in the middle of their little circle.

A soft gasp escaped her lips.

She typically took pride in her ability to adapt, never being caught surprised. However, this was the absolute last thing she would have ever expected.


	4. Child of the North

"... What the fuck? Are you serious?"

The major general stood, dumbfounded, at the sight she saw before her.

As the circle of soldiers parted to let her through, they nervously exchanged glances. They feared for how their commander would react; even more worried about how she would actually choose to take action.

In the snow, a soldier crouched. He was kneeling, though bent forward with his arms drawn to his chest. His labored breathing sent puffs of smoke into the freezing air. One would have suspected that, perhaps, he was wounded on his torso and he was merely clutching the injury, as those incapacitated would typically do. It wasn't an unfamiliar position to men of this war-torn region, after all. However, he met Olivier's stare as she stepped forward. His eyes didn't show anger or pain; merely a hopeless mix of fear and, most of all, confusion. He straightened slightly to show the officer what lay in his arms.

It was a small child. Alive, obviously- but very distressed; wrapped in thick fur with small, scrunched up eyebrows that gave them a look of discomfort.

Behind them, several other soldiers continued to drag the bodies into the fort behind them.

"Where did you find this?" Olivier snapped, without even thinking. She didn't care for children in general, but this was the last place on Earth a baby needed to be, and she knew that. Her tone only served to make the baby whine and her soldiers simultaneously flinch.

The soldier shakily saluted her from the ground, not wishing to anger her further by a lack of protocol, "The Drachmans had her with them, sir."

The general opened her mouth to interrogate him further, but another soldier spoke before she could, "A man and woman in particular, General. They were unarmed, while the three soldiers were, but only with light weapons-- pistols. However, it is very obvious that they all came from Drachma."

Olivier pursed her lips, not liking that fact one bit. She didn't advocate for the brutal murder of the unarmed, yet the full story remained a mystery to all of them. It sounded like some sort of escort to her. As a result, she didn't voice her feeling.

"It doesn't have a bomb strapped to it or anything, does it?" She asked flatly, eyeing the small stranger. A shake of the head from the soldier on the ground was her reply; to which she spun on her heels and started back for the fort. "I suppose we can't leave the thing outside. All of you get back in the fort immediately- there could be more out there and I don't want you lot standing around like absolute idiots just waiting for a bullet in your head."

Miles had remained behind her for the entire event, just eyeing the baby in sheer shock. Having always had a warmer heart than his commander, he hurried to help the soldier with the small bundle inside the steel fortress, making sure not to stray too far behind the general.

Deep booms from the cannons were capable of sending small tremors even several floors down from the roof of the fort. The floor shook slightly beneath the boots of the Briggs soldiers as they hurried inside, the alarm still blaring since the coast was not yet cleared and deemed safe. "I have to go back up topside," Olivier suddenly turned to her adjutant, mid-step up a flight of stairs. The major, used to the general's quick orders, immediately responded with an obedient nod. "Yes, Sir-"

"Take that kid to Doc," she suddenly commanded, turning and sprinting up the stairs before Miles even had a moment to mentally process the words. He turned slightly to look at the soldier who was carrying the child. He hadn't been given any orders yet- so he simply followed the commander and her adjutant like a lost puppy, Miles noticed. The two men made eye contact before simultaneously lowering their gaze to the small life, who was just beginning to squirm and hiccup the beginnings of a cry due to the loud, booming noise disturbing her.

"I'll take her," Miles spoke, trying to make his voice as comforting as possible. He, personally, liked children, and feared for the little one's safety. The soldier nodded quickly, handling the bundle of furs to the major as carefully as he could. "Go help them all up on the roof."

The soldier hurried off after a swift nod and salute. Miles, taking steps down the stairs as cautiously as possible, made his way past frantic soldiers and officers yelling orders until he made it back down to the ground floor once again. He held the small bundle close to him, attempting to muffle as much noise for the baby as possible. His mind raced, was she even going to live? She seemed to be bundled fairly well in the thick fur, so he prayed that the cold had not reached her yet.

He found himself in front of the medical facility. He pushed one of the doors open to witness the lead doctor and her staff hurrying to prepare supplies for any wounded soldiers; a typical sight in the event of an attack. Several rushed past him with bags of loaded equipment, most likely to tend to any soldiers already injured outside of the building. "Doctor," he spoke up, catching her attention. She immediately looked up at him, a small gasp escaping her as she immediately spotted the child. "Where did you..?" she whispered, automatically trying to be quiet, though it did little good among the siren.

"She was with several Drachmans we killed. They had crossed the border and were approaching the fort," he said quickly, as if in an attempt to justify their actions. He, of all people, despised the killing of the unarmed and, most likely, innocent. Sights of Ishval's ruin raced through his memory as he tried to make sense of everything happening around him.

The doctor spoke, but his momentary flashback clouded his attention. Of all of the horrors of the Ishvalan campaign, the one that struck his heart the sharpest was watching children crying in the street, dirtied and without parents, whether they were missing, or worse. He blinked his red eyes several times- the action guarded by his snowblindness goggles- as he regained his composure. "Hand her to me, Major," the doctor spoke, her tone with a twinge of annoyance, as if she had been repeating herself.

"Right," Miles breathed, his word a mere whisper as he carefully handed the baby over. He watched his silence as she lifted a tiny fist, a close-mouthed whine escaping her. A new idea bloomed in the soldier's mind, "Excuse me, Doctor, but I need to go help the defense."

The doctor nodded in reply as she immediately began to tend to the child, checking her vitals, making sure everything was alright. Miles quietly slipped out of the infirmary, making his way to the nearest phone, his path rather uninhibited due to the fact that most of the soldiers were guarding the fort now rather than scrambling around inside. He quietly made a call.

The alarm finally grew silent as the threat was disposed of. Soldiers, murmuring to each other about the attack, returned to their posts. Olivier remained up top with the cannons and several senior officers for about an hour or so, scoping the landscape and making sure that no enemies remained, slinking around in hiding, biding their time.

After the child was taken in, a new round of attacks started. Several Drachman tanks rolled up through the snow, shooting at the steel walls of the fort. Their numbers were small, however, and no major damage was taken save for several easily-patched dents in the facade. Briggs's cannons and skilled snipers, with the higher ground, made quick work of their uniformed opponents.

One question still remained, however.

"General," Miles saluted to her. His chest heaved after having to run up the stairs, his red eyes looking down at her back. He felt a bead of sweat run down his temple despite being in freezing conditions; he didn't know how she would react to what he had done. She was looking through a pair of binoculars, her attention sharply focused on the snowy horizon and the debris from the Drachman tanks.

He only noticed after a brief moment, with a mental jolt, that he was doing something rather sinful in his eyes. As he stared at the back of her head and awaited her response, right arm stiff in a salute, his gaze had lowered. Her figure was shrouded by the heavy coat that all Briggs soldiers wore, but the illusion was slightly disrupted by how the D-rings fit the coat tightly to the curve of her waist- proving that there was, indeed, a very womanly form beneath the heavy layers. He had always ignored the smirks and mutterings of his fellow soldiers about the general. It was no secret that many of them found her attractive and joked about her sensual quirks, if any. There was a "humorous" ( _Miles didn't find it funny_ ) rumor that one soldier was once given the eternal gift of being with her in bed once, only to be never seen again.

While the thought of the soldier's antics brought a scowl to the major's face, he couldn't help but be a hypocrite. While he would never admit it, he found her to be immensely attractive as well, but her beauty extended beyond being skin-deep to him. He wished that he didn't blossom with warmth every time she would brush past him, their contact causing his dark face to flush. He wished that he didn't notice how round and soft her face was, how blue her eyes were, how full her lips were... Or how much he wished to be with her.

Even if not in a carnal way, he wanted to be with her. His love- he hated to admit that's how deep the feelings had grown- was beyond a physical need. He saw through her beauty and saw the strength and power beneath. Her resolve and goals were something to be admired. She wasn't unlike him, in a way. While he grew up as a low-class "mutt", deemed so by the people he had been surrounded with in his youth, she was of high-class breeding and of "pure", wealthy blood. Despite there being every physical difference between them imaginable, they were both discarded by everyone from an early age. Miles wasn't accepted in either the Amestrian or Ishvalan cultures- he looked Ishvalan, but did not grow up deeply involved with the rituals and religion. Similarly, Olivier was looked down upon for her goals. She was meant to have children and look pretty, just as her wealthy ancestors had done before her. Nonetheless, she joined the Military Officer's Academy as soon as she was old enough, despite the nasty looks she received from everyone who knew her. _Fools_ , Miles would think when Olivier would share bits of her well-guarded past with him. _I bet they all feel like idiots, now that their perfect and delicate Armstrong girl has grown into one of the most powerful military officials of Amestris._

That's partially why he loved her so. She knew the heartbreak that accompanied the breaking of barriers. Even she was able to break his negative disillusionment with the military upon their meeting. She was strong, and beautiful, and intelligent, and she was the definition of independence.

Still, he couldn't help but sneak sideways glances at her every once in a while. He would smile gently at the thought. He probably saw more of what she kept guarded than any other human ever had, simply because he was her adjutant and, through years of service, she had gradually come to trust him with her life. Sometimes, he would catch a smile pull at her lips when he'd make a dry joke about the officials down in Central, or a soft chuckle when he'd pull a grimace as he sipped some foul-tasting coffee. They would talk quietly in her office when no work needed to be done, sharing goals and aspirations and stories from the pasts they'd both otherwise wish to forget. When the heating in the fort was in a good way, sometimes she'd shed her coat as they did paperwork in her office, and he'd catch a more accurate glimpse of her figure. She'd complain quietly about how her uniform wouldn't fit her anymore and she should lose some weight. He'd gently reassure her that she's an officer in the military, and thus she has muscle that doesn't give the illusion of a thin form. She'd grumble to herself, " _supposing he was right_ ", never sounding wholly convinced --though in reality, he berated himself for wanting to instead tell her how beautiful he found her to be. Being so close to her even on a platonic level was an honor, since one of her many titles the Bears would call her was the Northern Wall of Briggs. She was closed-off, walls having been put up since day one of her career, or possibly even earlier. She was unmoving, unrelenting, and untrusting; ever-wary. Being able to feel like they were actually good, close friends, probably the only one she had, was a privilege. He was grateful for the fact that she allowed herself one close friend after the events of the promised day, and that it was him, the only one he ever knew being Captain Buccaneer. 

His eyes drifted a little lower, to her legs which were also covered by her long coat, to her boots. Her feet were small compared to everyone else's, but then again, this fort was full of men.

"Finally you show up, Major," she spoke, her voice sharp as she turned to him, his red irises snapping up to meet hers. They were an icy blue, her thin eyebrows furrowed as she made eye contact. Miles swallowed the lump in his throat. "Where were you," the general frowned, her tone not even inflecting a question.

"You didn't give me any exact orders, sir," he replied quietly, still saluting. "I know you prefer me to be near you in times like this, but I had to make sure the child was taken care of first. I gave her to Doc and called in a few things for her from North City."

"What, like a good book and some tea, Major?" Olivier growled. "We have cannon shells in our walls and you were making a gift registry for some unidentified kid-"

"Sir," Miles spoke, his tone calm. It was moments like this where Miles served as a foil to the general, and she'd suddenly realize how angry she sounded. Normally, she wouldn't care, but she honestly despised yelling at her trusted adjutant. Her shoulders visibly relaxed slightly as she waited for him to continue. "I was simply calling in some formula for the baby, sir. We don't know how long she's been without, she could die."

Olivier blinked, the soldiers on either side of her stiffening as they expected her to roar at the major again. Instead, she broke eye contact for a moment, something she rarely did, "I see. I apologize, Major."

The other officer's mouths almost hit the floor. The general never apologized.

Miles nodded, dropping his salute.

The shorter woman paused, glared at the officers, then spoke again, her stark tone returning, "Don't just stand there, you idiots. Clean up this shit." She waved a hand to the spent shells that littered the floor around them. They scrambled around as Olivier motioned Miles to follow her back into the fort.

"How is she?" She asked all of a sudden as they descended. "I couldn't tell, General," Miles replied as he followed her closely. Her classic blonde curls bounced with every step. "She seemed distressed, but I don't think she was hurt or anything."

Olivier nodded, silent as they continued. She wordlessly led him to the infirmary, where the doctors waited, and he did not question their destination. They had all returned from checking the soldiers, and luckily, no one was hurt. The two officers quietly made their way over to a bed in the corner, which the head doctor had made a small makeshift crib for the baby. Olivier peered into the bundle of brown furs, and Miles's heart fluttered for a moment. He had never seen this look on her face. Normally, the general was so confident and sure of her, and for the first time, her blue eyes were wide with piqued and genuine curiosity. She had talked to Miles about how she had watched her mother have all four of her siblings, so the sight of a baby shouldn't be new to her.

He stood straight as the doctor made her way over. Somehow sensing his question, she spoke up quietly, "Her vitals are good and her stomach seems full, from what we can tell. She's just a little cold, is all."

Miles breathed a sigh of relief, but stiffened when the doctor cleared her throat. "But, you may want to see this," she began, the sentence causing Olivier to straighten as well. The doctor stepped lightly over to the opposite side of the bed and carefully pulled the furs away with delicate, careful fingers.

The general's and major's eyes widened. On the baby's loose wrappings sat bright, intricate reds and purples, but that wasn't the most surprising part. On her chest sat a detailed crest, sporting a bear and wolf motif locked in battle.

It was the Drachman Royal Crest.


	5. The Regime's Finality

The Ishvalan stood, staring, stunned. The Amestrian, however, sighed, "My god, this has got to be a joke."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the doctor spoke up, fixing the fur so the baby would be covered and warm again. Upon this gesture, the small child's expression relaxed, her porcelain skin returning to its normal shade after momentarily flushing pink due to the cold. "But we've reached out to our contact in the Drachman city of Chernotsk. He confirmed that a rebellion was just attempted and there has been a total military coup. Second Lieutenant Atherton came down to check on the little one, and he informed us that two of the adults that were killed are the Czar and Czarina of Drachma. Er..." she paused, "Were."

Olivier shook her head, "Why would they flee to Amestris? I'm sure they could've found some form of political asylum in one of their country's allies." Miles glanced down at her, catching his officer's attention.

"Not necessarily, sir," He spoke up, still looking a tad pale from the shock. "If they were that desperate, I'm sure they would've done anything. We're the closest country to the Drachman capitol." His red gaze fell upon the sleeping baby- "They'd risk death in the hopes that they, or someone else, could keep their baby safe."

"I didn't even know they had a child," Olivier murmured, half to herself, touching her chin in thought.

"We're not exactly friendly neighbors, General," Miles replied flatly, earning a disapproving grunt from the blonde. He sighed softly, "So, this little girl is, I guess, the princess of Drachma?"

"Czarevna," Olivier replied without looking at him, eyeing the baby carefully. Unbeknownst to the major or the doctor, even the Ice Queen's cold heart was melting at the, quite frankly, adorable sight. "Czarevna of the old regime, rather. Doctor, please get a hold of Communications again and ask our contact to reach out to me personally. What was that kid's name again..?"

Miles piped up; his memory often times better than his general's- "I believe it was Captain Ivanov, sir." Olivier nodded, silently spinning on her heels and heading towards the doors. Miles, usually quick to follow suit, leaned down and got another good look at the baby. She looked Drachman, all right. For young child, her hair was a thick obsidian; it and her long, dark eyelashes contradicted her pale skin. Other than that, she looked entirely normal. Her eyes were shut peacefully, her chubby little arms folded tightly against her and her hands little balled-up fists. The Ishvalan couldn't help but smile fondly. His mother had always jokingly prodded him about getting married and starting a family. He always knew theat her playful bickering was the stark opposite of Olivier's parents, however, whose mindsets were " _you_ will _give us grandchildren_ " rather than the jolly " _you'd make a wonderful father, you know_ " from her.

He had always toyed with the idea of raising a family- obviously before the civil war, of course. Even in Ishval during the conflict, children who had lost their parents (temporarily or permanently) would somehow flock to him. He didn't mind- he loved children. Sometimes, in the silence of his one-man bunk (officers got separate bunks, one of the very few rank advantages in Briggs) he'd toy with the idea of marrying one day, perhaps when he retired from the military, or if he was ever stationed somewhere more civil, like Central.

But then the idea of love would mockingly draw his thoughts back to the general. Then he'd ashamedly entertain the idea of starting a family with _her_. Now, _that_ was a thought. The general, a mother of all things. He'd almost immediately focus on something else, in fear that somehow maybe Olivier could read minds and she'd absolutely castrate him if she caught him thinking about such things.

Everyone at the fort knew Olivier's thoughts on motherhood. Once, a new private had accidentally called her "Mom" in front of the entire Briggs Brigade. Calling Olivier Mira Armstrong "Mom" in front of two-thousand men almost made the young man die on the spot from embarrassment and fear. Funny enough, the general wasn't even mad. She stared at him for a good five minutes, called him some rude names, and assigned him to custodial duties.

Still, Miles would sigh. He would at least like to think that a family between him and Olivier would be of her own volition rather than an act forced upon her by her parents, who simply wished for her to continue the bloodline.

He knew, however, that she didn't feel that way about him in the slightest. And that was okay.

There wasn't a thing in the world that the knight wouldn't do for his queen.

"Miles," Olivier called over to him once she realized he wasn't behind her. The major quickly straightened, hurrying over to her.

"Sorry, sir."

Olivier said nothing, yet Miles knew she didn't mind him trailing behind her, distracted. He felt a pit in his stomach; they had rendered this innocent child without parents. They couldn't help it, though-- any breach of the border by a Drachman was something that needed to be dealt with.

The woman sensed his unease, attempting to lighten the mood, "I didn't know you liked kids, Major." He lifted his head to reply, though she continued walking without sparing a glance back at him, most likely en route towards her office. It wasn't unlike Miles to follow her to her office without realizing it, his feet often leading him there by default. It was simply where he would hang out when he didn't have work- frankly, he enjoyed her company more than his alone time.

He gave a small nod, "Yes, General. I've always had kids sort of flock to me, I guess."

"I can see why."

What the hell did that mean? Perhaps she was implying that he was too soft. "I suppose I've always kind of wanted to be a father, too."

They reached her office, the blonde producing a key from the pocket of her uniform trousers. Her face revealed nothing, "Shame that I dragged you into service up here, then. You could be a happy man with a nice wife and family right now, in somewhere more peaceful, like Central, or East."

He couldn't explain away his blush. For once, he thanked his genes that his skin was dark enough to hide it. It took effort not to reply immediately, "No worries, sir. I'm quite happy here."

She grunted a reply and stepped inside the room, flicking the light switch. She made her way to the edge of the room, making sure to grab and drag a spare chair to the opposite side of her desk as she always did for him. She didn't need to speak, their routine was set in stone; he knew that her gesture had meant that she was once again inviting him to stay in her office with her as she worked. He decided to break the silence as she stepped around the desk to her own chair. Clearing his throat, he took his seat, "I'm glad you brought me here, General. I don't know how you knew it just by looking at me, but this really is my calling."

Olivier didn't look at him; she merely took a sheet of paper off the stack that sat at the edge of the desk. She silently recalled their meeting, tossing the memory around in her mind for a moment. Unknowingly, he did the same. They had met during the civil war- Miles, despite growing up in Central with his "Amestrian" family (he was the only one of his siblings and parents to have inherited the physical Ishvalan genes) was deported to Ishval several years prior to the Extermination simply because of how he looked. They called him an Ishvalan spy. He didn't know the language fluently or customs of the province, so he found little initial peace among kin there. While he was eventually, cautiously, welcomed by the locals, it was not long later when the violent conflicts began.

Olivier was only a colonel being evaluated for promotion when she was sent to Ishval during the initial tensions, her group meant to police the area, before the actual fighting between Ishvalan citizens and Amestrian soldiers began. There, they met, and she immediately saw herself in him; they did not belong. Her platoon was recalled when the order was issued to send in actual developed combat units-- this was several years before the state alchemists were utilized, once Fuhrer Bradley had determined that the fighting had gone on for too long. Secretly, she brought him with her to Briggs, instating him into the military to keep him safe.

About a year after Order 3066 was underway,  law was passed to rid the Amestrian military of already-enlisted Ishvalan soldiers, and Miles attempted to resign just so the major general would be spared getting court-martialed for harboring someone like him. She ordered him to stay, otherwise he'd have to have a one-on-one duel with her.

Needless to say, Miles knew how to choose his battles wisely. He was no idiot. 

He was attracted to her before then, no one denied her regal beauty. However, if asked, that's where he'd say he first realized it was love.

He watched her right hand as it signed the form in front of her; it was a shame that half of the general's duty revolved around paperwork. It seemed like such a silly thing to admire, but he loved her handwriting. Years of living a wealthy childhood had gifted her with certain high-class skills, like calligraphy, art, and etiquette. She'd written him a note once, reminding him to pick up a shipment of a certain set of ammunition on a trip to North City he had taken. He kept the note just because it was pretty and nice to look at.

They were silent for a while, until he spoke up, "Thank you, Olivier."

Her bright blue eyes flickered up to look at him, her head not moving. He rarely called her by her first name, it was insubordinate of him. However, for the rare times he did, it was because he was dead serious about something. It was a very rare occurrence for him to do so, but it did happen; like times when she would be on a rampage and about to kill the next person she saw, or whenever she would get injured (which was more often than the Ishvalan was comfortable with) and Miles was afraid of her state worsening.

"What's this, Major?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious. He couldn't help but notice the shimmer of her eyes- the blue was light, but lined with a darker shade. Lighter and darker flecks of the main color within them caused them to sparkle. He took off his goggles to return her gaze, his red eyes perfectly contrasting with her own.

"For always sticking up for me. I know I've said it before, but..." He trailed off, then shrugged. "I'm not just saying this because you're my boss, but I truly believe that you have the most admirable motives of any military leader. You've given me, and many other men here, everything we have. A warm bed, a set number of nutritious meals every day, even if they're not that good-tasting.. A job, camaraderie, and a setting void of judgement."

Olivier slid the paper over to the other side of her desk, starting a finished pile. The sudden movement startled the major slightly. "Please don't kiss my ass, Major. You know I know how grateful you are."

 _But you don't_ , Miles thought. It was times like these when he just wanted to throw his arms around her and kiss her. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him. He wasn't lying when he said that she'd given him everything.

But that'd end up with a saber through his chest.

"Yes, sir," the major replied softly as the general began working again. "Would you like me to get you anything?"

"Coffee," she said without looking up. "How I like it, please."

He nodded, standing quietly. He didn't know if she was lying or not, but apparently when Miles made coffee at the fort, it was _bearable_ to her. Briggs was notorious for receiving shitty rations, and the coffee was often undrinkable. Even Miles thought so, whenever he made it- but, _apparently_ , Olivier liked it. It wasn't like her to lie just to spare another's feelings, so he had ended up believing her.

He made his way out of her office and down the hall to the elevator. It passed the floor that the infirmary was on. He debated on visiting the baby, but decided against it. Eventually, he got to the mess hall and went directly to the coffee station. He felt a pang of loneliness- he and Captain Buccaneer would sometimes spend hours down at one of these tables, laughing and talking. This was whenever Olivier was busy, of course. The irony was painful; Miles truly believed that Buccaneer was beginning to suspect his feelings for the general before he was killed, always messing with him and poking fun at him when he'd catch the flush spread across his friend's face.

Carefully, he made his way up to her office once again. The general had a sweet tooth, so he always made sure to add a lot of sugar. He soon got to her office and quietly stepped inside.

She was standing at her desk, the phone to her ear. She immediately looked up at him when she saw him, "Major, good timing. Get over here."

He nodded quickly, setting her coffee down and making his way to her, "What is it?"

"Ivanov," she replied before speaking into the phone, "Yes, he's here. Wait, let him listen too." Olivier mentioned Miles closer, and he obliged, stepping up beside her left side, where the phone sat. Without warning, she grabbed the fur of his Briggs coat and tugged him down to her, his face so close to hers that their cheeks were nearly touching, his entire body growing hot and his heart immediately pounding against his ribcage. "Listen," The blonde ordered. "I waited for him to tell me so I wouldn't have to relay it to you."

Miles nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. A few of her blonde curls tickled his forehead. "Go ahead, Ivanov," she said.

"Yes, sir." Came the reply from the phone. "I called as soon as I could, things are really bad here. Me and other civilians have been evacuated to Neryuyev after the coup. It looks like the Czar was planning on extending some peace treaty drafts to you, especially after the failed raid recently. Extremists didn't like that, so they overthrew him and his wife.."

"I see," Olivier sighed. "So they were trying to escape with their daughter."

"Yes, General. The leaders of the coup told the public that they did it because 'Drachma is a great nation that should not have been defeated by a small fraction of the Amestrian military'. General Armstrong, I have reason to believe that they will be planning a full-scale attack."

"I see. Do you fear for your safety, Captain?"

"No sir. I've been fitting in very well with the locals, they've all been very kind to me. At this time, while the coup has succeeded, it doesn't seem like the citizens like it one bit."

Olivier shot a glance to Miles, who momentarily returned it. Their silent communication lasted for a brief moment before the general spoke with her usual resolve, "Good, then. Keep up the good work; I trust that you'll send more updates now. Look forward to a promotion upon your return."

Ivanov's excitement could be heard clearly through his reply, "Y-yes, General! Thank you!"

Straightening, Olivier hung up the phone. Miles, wanting to linger, reluctantly straightened as well. The two soldiers took to their seats, a soft sigh escaping Olivier's full lips as she drew the coffee mug closer to her. It was very late in the night, but there was no way in hell the two would be sleeping tonight; might as well get some work done.

Another long silence rung out between them.

"Well," Miles inhaled through his nose. "This is, uh. A predicament."

"No shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to remain as canon-friendly and as believable as possible with Miles' backstory ;w; My friend Beck and I roleplay these two a lot and he helped me come up with Miles' backstory and stuff!


	6. Warmth

No news wasn't necessarily good news in the general's mind. She had hoped that Ivanov would begin updating her more regularly on the politics in Drachma after the incident, but she actually hadn't heard from him at all after their initial conversation.

She sat in her office, tapping her pen on her desk restlessly, Miles silently watching from across her. The baby had been doing fine over the past few weeks. It was the dead of winter, and the weather had begun growing fierce, causing transportation to and from the fort to draw to a complete standstill. As a result, the Drachman- Olivier had been informed that her name was Karelia- was to be held at the fort until the roads cleared once again.

The blonde hated to admit anything was cute. She, however, accidentally let it slip to her adjutant that she found the Drachman to be so. He gave her a warm smile, agreeing, "I think so too, General. She's so sweet. Did I tell you, she grabbed my finger the other night when I went to visit her."

He gave Olivier that warm, deep chuckle that she loathed. Loathed because of how it made her legs weak and her heart thud quicker.

"I had to wait until she fell asleep for me to slip away."

"So that's why you were late to meet me," she replied, resting her elbow on her desk and propping up her head, staring at him with cold eyes. He knew her too well, though, to realize that her anger wasn't always the same ferocity that she showed her soldiers. He could always recognize the glint of dry humor in her voice.

"Uh. Well, yes," he replied, though the woman shook her head quietly. "Work's been slow," she mentioned as an afterthought. The Ishvalan's head tilted slightly, questioning.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her eyelashes gently brushing her cheekbones. Exhaled through her nose. "It's okay if you visit her. I mean, you're still getting your work done, so I don't care what you do in your spare time."

"You should visit her too," came the quiet reply. Olivier's eyes opened, irises peering over at the major. He saw her look and searched for the correct words, knowing the general didn't particularly enjoy being told what to do. "Pardon me for saying, but you seemed rather interested in her when we first took her in. It's been three weeks, and you haven't been down to see-"

"You know what?" Olivier suddenly stood, her chair squeaking as it was moved backwards. Miles' eyes widened, immediately worried. No matter how close he was to her, she never ceased to startle him. Especially since she had cut him off. However, she surprised him.

"I think I will. See what all of the damned fuss is about," she muttered, retrieving her coat from the back of her chair. She pulled it on, momentarily adjusting her saber. Miles couldn't fight a smile.

"And wipe that look off your face," she continued to grumble as he stood and followed her to the door. "I don't understand what the hell it is with all you people and god damn babies. You see one and you're immediately reduced to a puddle."

"She'll like you," Miles said suddenly, causing the general to stop cold in her tracks. She turned to him, glaring daggers. That bastard was still fucking smiling. "I ought to demote you," she threatened. "Or worse, I'll wipe that grin off your mug myself." The major's smile faded, albeit slowly, and he gave her a curt nod. She turned back around and continued down the hall, oblivious to the amused look that had returned to Miles' face.

They eventually reached the infirmary. Besides the doctors and their very special guest, the large room was empty. Not many medics were even on duty at the moment, so only the lead doctor and several others remained.

"Oh, General," she smiled over at her commanding officer, adjusting her headband slightly. "Good timing. I trust you're here to see Karelia? I was just about to feed her."

Luckily, the supplies Miles had called in did not take long to arrive. That was just before the flurry of bad weather.

"Mm," Olivier pursed her lips, not pleased to be associated with the Drachman child. Miles, on the other hand, might as well have been bouncing up and down. The two made their way over to the makeshift crib, where Karelia was on her back, asleep. She had been given a new little onesie and was no longer freezing. The furs she had been found with, however, remained near to her to cuddle if she wished.

Of course, the major immediately began to gently scoop her up. Olivier would admit, she didn't expect him to be so drawn to the little royal so quickly. By the way he lifted her and brought her close to his chest, one would think it was his kid all along. The general had to turn her attention to something, anything else, in order to fight of the heat that swelled from her chest and to her cheeks. Seeing him all fatherly made her whole body just ache. She ended up awkwardly staring up at the lighting fixtures, and the odd gesture caused Miles to glance up as well, wondering what was so interesting.

The doctor returned to them with a heated bottle of formula. As if they had done all this before, she handed it to Miles, and he began speaking softly to the baby. Her blue eyes slowly fluttered open, and upon seeing him, her toothless mouth opened into a smile. She hiccuped a typical baby noise and started reaching for his face, her little hands grabbing at the air.

Olivier was silent.

He fed her for around fifteen or so minutes before she began to slow down. Removing the bottle and setting it aside, he began pacing around and gently burping her. The general's eyes followed him slowly, frankly amazed at how her loyal adjutant, whom she thought she knew everything about, switched to this hidden mode of his so swiftly. Maybe he was meant to be a father instead of the path she had presented to him.

He could, if he wanted to- anyone at Briggs could be a parent. There was nothing saying one couldn't. However, Briggs wasn't like East, or Central, or even North, for that matter. Balancing being a parent here was simply too difficult. It was too far from civilization and, being blunt, it was an eternal warzone. Both nature and fellow man were against the soldiers here. Some men had families back at home, but they had been established prior to them being stationed at the border. Any other way would be nearly impossible.

Olivier was lost in thought, but Miles' small smile brought her to. "Would you like to see her, General?" he asked, his voice quiet as to not disturb Karelia.

"I'm good," she replied. "I haven't held a baby in more than twenty years. I wouldn't want to drop her. Plus, she'd probably be scared of me and start crying."

The major shook his head, smile unwavering. He chuckled again. Fucker.

"She hasn't heard any opinions of you, sir. Babies don't understand the concept of authority and power," he spoke again, already beginning to hand the Drachman to her. Unable to protest, Olivier carefully took the little one.

In all honesty, she knew the baby wouldn't burst into tears upon seeing her, like so many of her soldiers had. What she didn't expect was Karelia giggling and reaching for her just as she had done for Miles. Miles must have noticed the surprise on his superior's face, "I knew she'd like you, General."

"Yeah, well," she sputtered in reply. Her stoicism was merely a failing facade at this moment. "She probably does this to everyone."

"She doesn't try to grab hair like that."

Karelia had somehow gotten a small fistful of one of Olivier's large curls. She stared up at the Amestrian, babbling quietly and enjoying the tactile sensation of the long, blonde hair. Growing more comfortable, Olivier held her close to her chest to support her more. Karelia let go of her hair and proceeded to cling to he woman's uniform. Instantly, she noticed the general's two shiny medals and began reaching for them as well. Olivier would never admit it, but for once, she was silently thankful for her womanly figure. Her chest was serving as quite the effective shelf for the baby.

"Aw," a voice snapped Olivier violently from her solace. The head doctor was near them again, smiling. "I should go get a photographer. This is too precious."

Anyone other than Miles and the doctor would've been dead for saying that. Olivier snarled, "Do it and you'll have to perform surgery on yourself."

Used to her 'affection', the doctor casually continued, "We had better get her back into her little bed. Wouldn't want her getting cold again."

Reluctantly, Olivier relinquished the Drachman and watched as she was returned to her crib. "Ready to go, General?" Miles piped up, taking his place beside her. Without a word, Olivier turned for the door, adjutant in tow.

They made their way outside in silence; it was their turn to patrol. They didn't always go together, but they often did just for the sake of company. Miles opened his mouth to say something, but Olivier spoke first, softly- "You're very good with her."

The tone of her voice caused Miles to falter, though he continued behind her, "Thank you, sir. So were you."

"Are you happy here, Miles? Actually."

Questions like that always caught the man off guard. His eyebrows knit together, unsure of Olivier's motives, "Yes, sir. Of course, life here is difficult and often without thanks, but I'm glad to be able to serve my country."

"The country that deported you," Olivier replied. Her tone had changed once again, but this was one Miles was altogether unfamiliar with. It was almost solemn.

"There's good and bad Amestrians," Miles replied, slowly, choosing his words carefully once again. "Just as there's good and bad Ishvalans. Good and bad soldiers, too."

"Which one do you think I am?"

More surprises. This time, Miles' footsteps ceased. Hearing him stop behind her, Olivier silently turned to look back at him.

"Good, of cour-"

"Not just because I'm your senior officer, Miles. I've been called every name in the book and beyond and," she paused to sigh. "Though it'd be.. different, coming from you, I want to know. I've killed many people, I've done many things for the wrong reasons. Hell, I've betrayed the military I've fought so hard for."

He knew she was referring to her role in the foiling of the Promised Day. Not only did she kill General Raven, but she had commanded her men to go to battle against Central soldiers. Miles knew his answer, though he was silent to give the illusion of consideration.

"I suppose good and bad are relative, but to me... I truly believe you're wholly good. Everything you've done has been ultimately for the state. You're the most selfless person I've ever had the gift of meeting. And pardon me for saying..."

Was this it? Miles truly didn't know if he was about to confess or not. He wanted her to know, but... this was something that would have to come gradually. Maybe he'd wait until after this conflict was Drachma was resolved, so she wouldn't miss his assistance when she fired him for telling him he loved her.

"You're my favorite person, General."

"You must not know very many people, Major."

He felt a sharp pain in his heart. Did she truly think of herself this negatively?

"There's nowhere I'd rather be than here, supporting your endeavors. By your side."

She blinked, as if his words had struck something within her. Miles immediately prepared himself to be physically struck.

However, this seemed to change her mind, as her gaze lowered to the snow at their feet. Silently, she turned and continued her walk. He could only hope that his words hadn't upset her; that was the last thing he wanted. He remained silent as well, not wishing to push the issue any further.

About an hour later, they returned to find a soldier frantically searching the halls for them. Upon seeing them, he skittered over, throwing up a weak salute as he panted.

"This had better be good," she spoke to him immediately. He was stuck in an attempt to catch his breath for a moment, trying Olivier's patience, "Say it or I'm leaving. I can hear a bath in my bunk calling my name."

She took a step to move past him, but his wheeze made her stop.

"I-it's Captain Ivanov, General."


	7. Viable Solutions

The general and her adjutant made their way to the infirmary as swiftly as possible. 

Olivier sent the doors swinging open as they stepped inside, Miles matching her stride. The first thing their eyes fell upon was a bloodied and trembling Captain Ivanov. A loyal soldier-- he would've saluted upon their entry; if he was capable of seeing them. 

He flinched when he heard the doors burst open, though he was in too much pain to move his head to look over. Bandages were tightly wrapped around his left eye--the side facing the doorway-- and a deep, sticky red was angrily staining the white bandages. He shook, not from the cold of Briggs, but from the shock he was in. He held his right arm and was hesitating allowing a nurse to re-set his dislocated shoulder. "Oh, General!" The head doctor piped up from the other side of the room as she prepared what seemed to be a syringe of lidocaine. "Am I glad to see you right now."

"I could say the same," Olivier replied, her tone cautious as she eyed her soldier as he emitted painful whines. She made her way over to him, despite Miles laying a hand on her shoulder to try and prevent her from doing so. Olivier knew this wasn't the time for a million questions, but she figured she could at least get the gist of what happened to the captain. 

"Ivanov," she commanded, though her tone was quieter than usual. She couldn't imagine how much pain he was in. Despite having fought a homunculus several months prior, the general had always had a high tolerance for pain. "What happened to you?"

His lower jaw trembled as he struggled to formulate the thoughts in his head that would eventually form words. "Attacked," he sputtered. "They found out."

"About you?" She pressed, but he ground his teeth and gasped sharply as the nurse forcefully shifted his shoulder. “Captain, I need to know.”

“General?” the lead doctor quietly caught her attention as she made her way over, tapping on the syringe to get the bubble to raise. “Forgive me, but could you come talk to him later? His health is rather dire right now,” she lifted her face mask from her chin. “We need to fix that eye or he’ll bleed out.”

Olivier, her judgement momentarily clouded by her clamoring for information, blinked and quickly nodded. She turned, grabbed her adjutant’s wrist, and promptly left the infirmary. 

 

Her office was silent, save for the incessant tapping of her boot. She was alone-- Miles had to go on a patrol-- and she was having to impatiently wait for word from the infirmary. She didn’t want it to seem as if she didn’t care for the wellbeing of her troops (there had been many, many times, _ especially _ in recent memory, where she had proven her loyalty to her men), she just knew that whatever message Ivanov held was to be vital to the survival and success of her fort; possibly even all of Amestris. There was no way of telling how advanced Drachman military technology had become, or how many soldiers it had at its immediate disposal-- not to mention the countless prisoners in gulags who would surely be forced to fight if total war to arise. She needed to know everything as soon as humanly possible if she were to formulate an effective attack or defense strategy for Briggs to take. 

Her phone rang, and Olivier did not waste a single moment to answer it-- “Armstrong.”

“Hello General,” the doctor’s voice hummed from the other side of the line. “Ivanov is stable, conscious, and ready to speak to you, if you’re free.”

“Absolutely, I’ll be down in a moment,” the general replied. She simultaneously hung up the line and stood from her seat, retrieving her coat from the back of her chair. The time was right for Miles to be finishing his patrol; she would catch him and bring him with her on her way to the infirmary. Being both her personal assistant and right-hand leader of the fort, it was crucial for him to be present as well. 

 

They entered the infirmary, much calmer than before. Ivanov was propped up in his bed, the whole left side of his face bandaged. His shoulder was in a sling, and many bandages were visible on his bare arms-- he had been transferred to the standard hospital gown, so Olivier was sure there were more injuries that had been tended to that were covered. Her eyes fell upon a blue and red mass on a nearby table-- his uniform had been neatly folded, though the care seemed futile. There was no saving the clothing; even from afar, the woman could see how torn and stained it was. Bloodstains nearly rendered the blue a dark and gloomy red. His pistol as neatly laid next to it, though it was clearly destroyed in places as well. 

Olivier and Miles made their way to the bed, both of them simultaneously noticing that Ivanov was watching Karelia in the bed-made-crib beside him. Olivier cleared her throat, and the captain slowly turned his entire head to her; unable to see her in his periphery. 

“I apologize for not being able to salute, sir,” he spoke, his voice quiet and with not a spark of hope. 

“I’m not concerned with protocol with you in such a situation, Captain,” Olivier replied, her own tone reflecting his volume (or lack thereof), yet retaining her signature sternness. “The most important thing for you right now is to rest and get well again.”

Ivanov smiled as much as he could, his face still painful from the procedure he underwent. “Pull up a seat, please. I’ll tell you everything.”

Olivier sat in the seat that was already beside the bed; Miles retrieving the nearest one and dragging it to sit beside his superior. The woman leaned forward, prepared to listen, “What happened to your eye?”

“Grenade,” Ivanov murmured, his gaze lowering to the sheets that wrapped around him. “Doc said it was a globe rupture due to the shrapnel that got to me.”

The doctor nodded to them from across the room as she leaned into the crib to check on the Drachman, “We’ll have to perform enucleation on the affected eye, there’s no way it’ll heal. We’ll schedule the surgery and have it taken out once the captain here has had some time to rest and heal from his other injuries.”

“I see,” Olivier sighed, looking from the doctor to the captain. “Don’t worry about disability discharges, we’ll discuss all of that when you’re on your feet again.”

“Thank you,” Ivanov replied. “I don’t know how, and I doubt I ever will, but the military police found out about me. I was at the public townhouse in Neryuyev when they broke my door down. I jumped out of the window and caught my arm on a pipe; it got wrenched out of the socket, but I kept running. They chased me to the next town, where they lost me and I was able to stay for the night. I didn’t even get to hide out for a full twenty-four hours before they found me again. And,” he grunted, shifting painfully in his seat slightly. “Of course, they had called in reinforcements and even dogs this time.”

“It’s okay, take a rest,” Miles politely interrupted him, noticing his distress. “We can wait.”

Ivanov nodded and waited for a moment. Doc was usually very on top of giving soldiers confined to the infirmary pain medicine when needed, and due to her lack of interference, Olivier noted that he probably had taken as much as he could at the given time. 

After a beat, he picked back up where he had left off-- “The dogs found me and I had to make another break for it. I tried shooting at the police,” He paused. “‘Cause, you know. I wasn’t gonna shoot the dog.”

Olivier nodded understandingly, earning a glance from Miles.

“And one of the bastards shoots the gun out of my hand. So now I have no weapon. I kept running and trying to hide, but they eventually got fed up and just lobbed a grenade a me,” He sighed softly. “I was far enough away that nothing actually got blown off of me, but I turned around to look at them at just the wrong moment, I guess. I ended up getting away for a short moment, went into a bar, and stole the barkeeper’s keys right from his pocket. I mean, if he was gonna pull a gun on me, I’ve seen worse just in the last day alone, right? I ran outside when he called the police and got away in his car, though it was a little slow from the snow.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” the major responded. “Can we get you anything? Has your family been called yet?”

“Yes, but, Major Miles? I have more of the story.”

Miles’s eyebrows raised curiously. “I had been quiet for a while,” Ivanov glanced back over at the Drachman, who was now being held and fed by the doctor. “I may have found at least a temporary solution to our problem. I dug around a little and found out that some of the relatives of the old regime’s Czarina live in a small town near Chernotsk. They’ve gone into hiding due to the coup, but…”

“They could act as regent to Karelia,” Olivier breathed. “I’m sure there’s still people who support the old regime, right, Captain?”

Ivanov nodded, “Most people seemed to be against the coup, actually. Obviously no one’s going to do anything about the overthrow since the rebels are extremely well-equipped, but despite many people disliking the actions the Czar took during the Briggs raid, they were rather well-liked among civilians for the most part. From what I can gather, at least.”

“It’d be a way of wiping the slate clean,” Miles added. “If we can do something about reinstating Karelia as the future Czarina, we could even restore Amestrian-Drachman relations.”

Olivier was already rubbing her temples, however. Her adjutant gave her a concerned “General…?”

“Central’s going to absolutely  _ fucking _ hate this,” she groaned. “But this whole ordeal is vital to both Amestris and Drachma. I love a good fight to get the blood pumping, but I’d take a healthy relationship between our two countries over all-out warfare any day of the week.”

Miles nodded, trying to lighten the mood, “May put us out of a job defending the border, General.”

She gave a short, cynical snort of laughter as she stood, “Was there anything else, Captain?” After receiving a shake of the head, she nodded in reply; “We’ll let you rest for now, but please send up all of the information you have on these relatives’ whereabouts as soon as possible. I need to start a writeup for a meeting at Headquarters.”

“Yes, sir,” Ivanov replied. “I’m at your disposal. Until I’m officially discharged, I mean.”

“I told you not to worry about any of that right now,” the woman turned, signaling for her adjutant to stand. “Just rest and get your strength up again. That’s an order.”

Ivanov nodded as Miles turned, mirroring their commander. Together, they headed for the door. “Please keep me updated, Doc,” Olivier called back to the other woman. 

“As always, chief.”

 

“This is such a mess,” Olivier grumbled, half to herself, as they walked. 

“Would you prefer me write to Central, sir?” the Ishvalan offered, his steps matching hers. She shook her head, causing Miles’s eyebrows to furrow. “General, you’ve been under a lot of stress recently. Please let me help.”

“Just you being here is enough help,” Olivier said, her tone harsh and serious as usual. Her words, however, completely juxtaposed her stoicism. 

“You’ve got enough on your plate, if I may say,” Miles continued as they stepped into her office. 

“No.”

“General,” Miles noticed his voice raise, somewhat. His change in tune caused Olivier to look back at him, curious.

“You’ve been like this ever since Buccaneer died. I mean, you were a workaholic before, but now it seems as if you’re keeping all of the dangerous, difficult work to yourself. It’s my _ job _ and my _ pleasure _ to assist you.” He suddenly realized how different he sounded than his normal self when Olivier’s blue eyes widened ever so slightly, blinking up at him in silence. 

The air remained tense for a moment before Olivier expertly diffused it, breaking eye contact and lowering her own reply, “I regret not treating him more like a friend. I don’t want the same to happen to you. I don’t want to regret anything else.”

Miles was taken aback by this sudden vulnerability. “General--”

“I already lost one of my right-hands, and I don’t want to do it again, okay?” She spat, suddenly defensive. “I don’t know what the hell I’d do if something happened to you, of all people, under my watch.”

A long silence drew out between them, Olivier not looking up at him and instead choosing to stare at the floor as Miles watched her closely, trying to decipher any twitch of her eyes or change in her breathing to determine whatever strong emotions she was feeling. 

The man took a slow, deep breath before answering her. “I am your adjutant and personal assistant, Major General Armstrong. Frankly, in comparison to other soldiers in my career, I am rather underworked. I want to help you in any way that I can, and I want you to preserve your mental health. You’ll work yourself into a hole if you continue at this rate. If this situation is stressful for me, I can’t even begin to comprehend what it must be like for you-- and I want to help alleviate even a little of that burden, if you’ll let me.”

The blonde slowly looked up at him again, her expression blank but her eyes surprisingly gentle as she considered his words. 

“Alright,” she replied after a moment, as if she had to muster up her typical flat tone of voice again. She sighed, heading back for her door. “Could you write up that meeting proposal?”

“Anything for you, sir,” Miles replied, making his way towards her desk and promptly sitting down. 

“I’m gonna go take the hottest, longest bath in the world,” she huffed, opening the door. “Please include everything Ivanov told us, and don’t leave anything out about Karelia. I haven’t gotten around to telling them yet,” she added, flatly and unenthusiastically, “Whoops.”

Miles nodded, lifting a sheet of paper and pen, “I’ll make a write-up and have it radioed in to Central so they get it as soon as possible, sir.”

“Perfect,” Olivier exasperated, obviously just tired and not actually being short with him any longer. She left the room, but swiftly returned, poking her head through the door. “Also, Major? Don’t bother adding the materials you ordered for Karelia to the fort budget report. I meant to tell you earlier, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter since you haven’t sent it off yet for this month.” Miles glanced up at her, cocking his head questioningly. “I’ll just pay for it out-of-pocket. I don’t mind.”

Without another word, she left, Miles smiling slightly to himself. Looks like the little Drachman could melt even the coldest and frozen-over of hearts after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone getting the blooper's reference :3  
> I'm very sorry this took so long to update! Please leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed this. I have the entire plot outlined so I'll try my hardest to update more regularly; thank you immensely for sticking around!


	8. When Facing Opposition from Within

It had been nearly a week since the major sent off the request for a meeting in Central. Though Grumman and his council had promptly received the radio message, it had taken them several days to formulate a reply; causing the general some heavy concern. They better have a _good_ excuse as to why they didn’t give her an answer the _same day_ they got the information from Briggs, she’d frown and complain to herself.

Miles had been looking for the woman, and he found himself at her office door as a last resort. Normally, she’d be patrolling outside during this time of day, but he hadn’t seen her-- and taking into consideration the recent events occurring at the fort, he was beginning to get nervous. It wasn’t like her to skip out on a patrol without informing him.

He knocked quietly on her door, and upon hearing a quiet “come in”, he entered carefully. He tried to hide his sheer surprise at what he saw before him.

Olivier was in her seat, though it wasn’t the one behind her desk. It was at her nearby table, which held her coffee maker and some other miscellaneous supplies not directly related to work. Still, she faced his direction, her legs crossed so that she was making a lap-- where the little Drachman was sitting, looking up at her. She was making shrill baby noises, happily reaching up at the general’s face with one hand and clinging to the uniform fabric on her chest with the other. “G-General?” Miles asked, his voice nearly cracking. It felt as if his heart was literally aching at the sight, “Is… everything okay?”

Olivier looked up at him, her expression curious, as if she saw nothing unusual with what was happening, “Yes, why?” She gently took Karelia’s hand in hers, moving it off her chest since the Drachman was pinching her.

“You brought the baby into your office,” Miles replied, his expression rather dumbfounded, as if she was doing something scandalous. “It’s… not like you.”

Olivier shrugged casually, gathering the baby up and standing, “Just figured the kid was getting bored, being in the infirmary all the time. Was there something you needed?”

Miles quickly shook his head, stepping inside and closing the door behind him as Olivier made her way to her desk, Karelia with her. She took her seat, looking up and waiting for her adjutant to say something.

“I just wanted to come tell you that Central finally responded to our request,” he began, carefully. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, automatically recognizing his apprehension.

“They denied it, didn’t they,” she said flatly. Miles hesitated a moment before nodding solemnly.

“They replied saying it was simply too dangerous to engage, and that we shouldn’t interfere unless war actually breaks out and they breach our border.”

The general groaned loudly, rolling her eyes and exasperatedly leaning back in her seat. Her response caused Karelia to look up at her curiously. “Of course,” she sighed. “I should’ve known.”

“In the fuhrer’s defense,” Miles began, cautiously. “You know he trusts you deeply, especially after your part in the Promised Day. It’s the new cabinet he appointed that’s more… apprehensive.”

Olivier, a woman typically ready with responses, was silent for a moment. Her blue eyes flickered down to the Drachman in her lap, who was now gumming her own small hand.

Her lack of a reply caused Miles to quietly speak up again, “What are we going to do, sir?”

“What we did for the Promised Day,” the blonde spoke, her tone nothing but calm and casual. “We’ve already asserted the dominance of us soldiers of the north, gotta keep up the reputation, don’t you think?”

Miles blinked, unsure.

“We have a few other spies in Drachma. Less skilled and seamless than Ivanov, but still competent enough to relay us information. We’ll just have to slip into the country under the radar.”

“With all due respect, General, I know you’re aware that we can’t just walk across the border and not expect some sort of altercation. They know many of our soldiers’ faces, especially yours and mine,” the major replied, always the more logical of the two.

“I know, it’ll be a small, inside job,” Olivier gave a curt nod, repositioning the baby in her lap since she had grabbed one of the general’s long curls. “I know I’m not the type for stealth missions, you know how I like to go in, guns ablaze with tanks rolling in,” she gave her adjutant a small smirk. “I’ll hand-pick who all will go. I’m surprised you didn’t automatically assume that I was prepared with a plan in such an event as this.”

Miles gave her a small smile, amused, “Shouldn’t have ever doubted you, sir. You’re always prepared like this. However, I _am_ surprised that you didn’t cover Karelia’s ears for this. She is Drachman, you know.”

Olivier returned his smile. “I trust her,” was her rather playful reply.

Miles’s smile remained, “What shall we do once we’ve breached the border?”

“We’ll find the location of Karelia’s family and extract them from the country. Given they’re willing to cooperate.” She lowered her tone, adding “They’d be absolutely moronic if they didn’t, especially since we’ll be helping replace their family name as the rulers of the country. If all works out, we’ll see about harboring them at Central. If Headquarters throws a fit and won’t house them, I’ll just park them in my family’s manor.”

“You seem to be rather easygoing when it comes to the safety of your family’s property…”

“If the manor burns to the ground,” she replied, her look indifferent. “They have enough dough to build three more.”

Miles chuckled softly, “If you say so, sir. What about after that?”

“Then,” Olivier said, glancing down at her nails. “We’ll launch an actual attack and restore the old monarchy.”

“Seems risky,” he offered. “Sounds like we’ll be opening up an entire northern front for warfare.”

“When have my plans not been risky, Miles? Try an entire northern theatre.”

Another smile. It was times like these when he was once again reminded of how and why he loved her so, “True, sir. What shall I do until then?”

“Take this,” Olivier said, gently lifting Karelia from under her arms. Noticing that her feet were dangling freely, the little Drachman squealed excitedly. “I’ve got some major plans to make.”

“Yes, sir,” Miles replied, carefully taking the baby, followed by her reaching up and patting his sideburn, very interested. “Just back to the infirmary?”

“Unless you wanted to play with her,” Olivier replied, turning her attention to a scrap paper, pen, and her military phone book. “I’ve got some long-distance calls to make.”

Miles nodded, smiling to himself as he made his way to the door, “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“No promises, Major.”

 

Olivier stood quietly at the bunk door, looking down silently at the papers she gripped in her hands. Her eyes stung and her limbs were beginning to feel weak from the exhaustion, but she believed that she had finally formulated an adequate plan of attack-- or, rather, reconnaissance.

Part of her hoped that he was awake at this brutal hour of three in the morning so she wasn’t interrupting his sleep, yet she simultaneously preferred him to be asleep anyway so he was at least getting _some_ rest.

She lifted a hand and rapped on the door; she had to hand these plans over for him to look over tonight, or it would absolutely consume her. Even if she had gone to bed at a reasonable time, she knew how her body worked, and she was aware that she wouldn’t be able to actually sleep with the severe nerves.

It took a moment, but she eventually heard movement inside the room. The fort was dead silent, especially this floor at this time of night. Naturally, some soldiers were awake-- nurses, a few engineers and maintenance workers, and primarily night patrols were up and about, going about what soldiers in the normal hours would be doing. Olivier made it this way after years of studying warfare-- in Amestris’s history, at least, many battles were waged by the attacking side early on in the morning to catch their enemy by surprise and to disorient them with the limited visibility of the darkness. Nonetheless, she wasn’t sure if it made that much of a difference besides catching _some_ soldiers unaware, since the moonlight often reflected the snowy ground, brightly illuminating what would be the battlefield.

Miles opened his door quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a fist. He was wearing sweatpants and an undershirt tank, his voice dragging due to still being half-asleep, “Yes…?”

He yawned as Olivier replied, trying to keep her gaze on his face. It was unlike her to get this sudden, odd feeling of affection and warmth-- and why now, of all times? She was around big, built men every single day of her life, why did this one man evoke such a powerful change in feeling for her? “Sorry to wake you at this hour, Miles, I just really wanted to go ahead and give you these.”

Her voice suddenly snapped the major from his tired eye-rubbing once he realized who was at his door, and as she was mid-sentence, he frantically grabbed his coat from the coat hanger next to his door and pulled it on as if he was indecent.

“If they weren’t in your hands tonight, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Don’t feel pressured to read them now, since it’s so damn early. You can just read them tomorr--” She had glanced down at her papers momentarily, just for her gaze to rise to him again, now in his coat. Olivier blinked, studying him in one quick motion of her eyes, her eyebrows knit together in inquisitive confusion, “Why are you wearing your coat?”

He blinked back as if he was surprised she asked. He snapped her a salute, “I didn’t want to be in improper dress code in your presence, sir.”

“No offense, Miles,” Olivier began, her lips curling into the slightest entertained smile. “You look much better without that coat on right now. You look rather daft with it, actually, especially since I can see your sweatpants under it. And you’re barefoot.”

 _You actually look_ extremely _better without it on,_ she mused.

His dark complexion flushed a deep red; the change in complexion even visible in the dim light of the fort at night, “I-I am so sorry.”

“I promise that it’s no problem,” the general replied, sincerely. However much she enjoyed making eyes at him, there was a task at hand-- and it was nearly half after three now; she didn’t wish to hinder his rest any longer. “You were asleep, it’s not like you tried to come to inspection in that. Now, these plans?”

He nodded quickly, taking the papers from her and promptly scanning them. He wasn’t wearing his goggles; Olivier watched his red irises moving up and down as he read.

“I see,” He began, his tone back to normal and his blush no longer present. “Um, would you like to come in? I’m already awake, so I don’t mind discussing these with you. Unless you want to get to bed, I just thought talking about them now would put your mind a little at ease,” He suggested, his last sentence quickening from slight worry.

“If that’s alright with you,” she replied carefully, and he stepped aside to allow her in. She did so, glancing around the one-man bunk as he shut the door. She caught an eyeful of his back muscles tensing beneath his tank as he shed his coat again, placing it back up on the hanger.

“Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Do you need anything?” Miles asked, rapid-fire, as he made his way to a small desk in the corner, turning it so that he could face her while reading. He then swiftly got another chair and moved it to the desk, keeping it out far enough for her. She assumed his behavior was just the fact that she had caught him in an odd time for him, since he had been asleep and not in any sort of uniform. They kept each other company, of course, but it had never something this vulnerable and, frankly, intimate. 

Not used to the politeness from any of her soldiers, save for him, she took her seat and shook her head. He pushed it in for her.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he replied, sitting and straightening the papers. “Now, this is the first concern I have…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry most of this was dialogue, I hope that's okay ;;


	9. The Company

The general sat, one leg crossed regally crossed over the other. She propped her head up with her hand, elbow on her knee, as she eyed the door to her office; the only sounds in the room being the door quietly opening and closing as soldiers filtered inside and the tapping of Olivier’s pen on the edge of the desk. Her adjutant stood behind her chair, to the right slightly. He was motionless, as he always was; hands crossed behind his back in a sharp state of attention. His red eyes also followed each soldier as they stepped inside, each one looking nervous and confused as to why they were called in to speak directly with the major general. Many looking guilty of crimes they did not commit.

“Is everyone here?” The woman questioned without turning. Her gaze flickered from each of the men who stood in front of her, studying them all. All of them were higher-up, and most of them knew her rather well. Many of them were at least captains, several of them majors in whatever field they happened to work in.

“Yes, sir. Everyone’s accounted for,” Miles replied, reading over a clipboard. In the plans she had given him two nights prior, Olivier had included a list of soldiers she would prefer to be part of her scheme. Luckily, all were available for a meeting that day (even if they weren’t, Olivier would’ve had them make time), so the general ended up calling a rather informal formal meeting in her office. Discussions of this kind were never held here between commander and soldiers-- yet this time, things were very different. Once again, Major General Armstrong was going behind the backs of her own senior military staff-- and no one outside of the acting circle of servicemen would be able to know about it, lest the plan fall to ruin and endanger both countries of Amestris and Drachma.

“Good,” Olivier stood from her seat, lifting a rolled up map from her desk. She continued as she unrolled it, attempting to flatten it before setting it back down. “Make sure none of the radios over there are turned on, please. All of what I’m about to say is confidential.” Her blue eyes darted immediately to the communications specialist in the room, Sikorsky, who dutifully nodded and quickly got to work double and triple-checking the radios to the right of the general’s desk. Once he gave her a thumbs-up, she nodded and he returned to stand among the rest of the men.

The blonde laid the map flat on the mahogany, running her hand along the paper. The soldiers leaned forward curiously, the only ones remaining still being the general, her adjutant, and Ivanov, who sat in a chair beside the desk. He simply eyed the map with his single eye, calm, since he already knew what it read.

“I’m sure you’ve all been made aware of this whole Drachman situation with Karelia, and word has spread like wildfire throughout the fort of what happened to Captain Ivanov here,” Olivier began, her voice authoritative as she looked from each of the soldiers in front of her once again. “Before fleeing Drachma, Ivanov discovered the whereabouts of several of Karelia’s extended family; they are in hiding in a small town near the city of Chernotsk.” She paused to look at Ivanov, who nodded in confirmation, before she continued, “I attempted to schedule a meeting down in Central to address this situation, but they denied it, of course. However, I’m afraid I cannot let this issue slip past us.”

Her eyes narrowed, not at anyone in particular, yet several of the younger soldiers seemed to turn a little pale in fear. “The new regime is planning to launch an attack on us soon. It could be today, it could be tomorrow, it could be several months from now-- but it will happen if this regime continues to grow, thrive, and gain support from the citizens. They are radical extremists and if they get any more of a following than they do now, it will be disastrous for both of our countries. We are at a prime moment in their reign where it seems as if citizens have not yet warmed up to them, since they preferred Karelia’s family, but who is to say that that won’t change?”

“Since Central is to complacent for its own damn good,” the general spoke, her sentence nearly a growl. “It looks like we’ll once again have to go behind its back in order to do what needs to be done. That is why this is a matter of utmost confidentiality-- no one may know what we are going to do, even other members of Briggs. Not even your families.” The youngest soldier in the room looked down at the floor, apprehensive, but the resolve of the remaining Briggs men was obviously strong.

“We will infiltrate Drachma, extract the heir’s relatives, and safely bring them back here to they may serve as regent to Karelia once we rid the country of the rebels.”

Deathly silence. Several soldiers looked at each other, with too many questions to voice at once.

“I know we aren’t typically a special operations fortress,” Olivier began, retrieving a stack of papers handed to her by her adjutant. “But we’re Briggs. We’re the most highly-trained soldiers of Amestris, and the north is our world. No man’s land is our backyard. We will either do this successfully, or total war will break out between us and our most powerful geographical neighbor.” She stepped out from behind her desk and began handing a paper to each of her soldiers, stopping in front of each as she did so.

“Colonel Errick Stryker,” She began, looking the taller man in the eye. He was the most soldier-like of the group; by the book, clean-shaven, his light hair in a crew cut. His eyes did not meet hers until she addressed him, as they shouldn’t. “You will not be joining us, however you will be leading the fort in my and Major Miles’s absence. I trust you will lead the soldiers of this place and defend our wall with your life.” He nodded, the movement sharp as he snapped her a salute and took the paper from her.

Olivier moved on to the next soldier, getting a paper at the ready to hand off and addressing them all together, “This information I’m giving you is coded just in case anyone else gets a hold of it-- its main purpose is to jog your memory in the case that you forget any details. I trust that you all will be able to understand it.”

“Major Conrad Oshkosh,” the woman continued, looking up again as she stopped in front of the next soldier. He was by far the largest and most bear-like of the group; many people had thought him and Buccaneer were brothers back when he was alive-- especially since they often worked out together and had a similar towering body type. He was a few inches above six feet, with dark hair and a full beard. He’d probably have the least trouble blending in with Drachmans due to his appearance if the need to do so arose. “Special Ops Soldier,” she said, handing him the paper.

He glanced down at the paper in silence as his commander moved on, not usually the one to talk when talking was unnecessary. The next soldier, however, usually spoke enough for the both of them. Yet he, especially in this moment, knew when to shut up and take things seriously.

“Captain Aksel Halifax, Cavalry Scout,” she nodded to the soldier in front of her, for once not having to look up. The young man was the smallest and leanest of the party, his ear-length raven hair covering his eyes as he tilted his head to read the paper the general gave him. “Yes, sir,” he replied proudly, eyes wide at the thought of being chosen for such a mission. Olivier had already moved on, but she heard him murmur a dumbfounded “god, this is exciting” to no one in particular.

“Lieutenant Colonel Northrop Foster, Fire Support Specialist,” She began, handing off a paper before immediately continuing to the next; “And Captain Lewis Miller, Special Ops Medical Sergeant.”

For some people, like Miles, Briggs had been a safe haven in the military due to Olivier’s undiscriminating nature. In Miles’s case, he could remain safe from the military’s purge of Ishvalan soldiers. Foster and Miller, on the other hand, found security under the general’s command for their sexuality.

Foster was much less comfortable with it all, and Olivier often noticed him kissing up to her on purpose. She was aware of it, and despite the cajoling and his incessant narcissism, he was a good soldier-- and his rank showed such. She knew, deep down, that he was afraid of being court-martialed just because of the person he loved. This was most likely why he always seemed angry and uptight; the stress and worry and perfectionism he was inclined to made him look much older than he really was.

Miller, on the other hand, showed no age, despite being two years older than his partner. His gentle personality was often used as a foil to Foster, and he was the only person who was capable of reigning in his boastfulness. He had the patience of a saint, which was especially needed in the medical field when stationed in such a dangerous place as Briggs.

“Major Roth Sikorsky,” The woman handed off the next page to the soldier who had previously checked the radios, “Special Ops Communications Sergeant.”

Olivier was confident in her choice of soldiers, save for one small detail. Both Halifax and Sikorsky were avid talkers, and while Halifax was usually snide and purposefully annoying, Sikorsky simply liked to talk. He was a widower, with several children already in their young adult years. Once, the general had had enough and came to Miles complaining about the other soldier, to which Miles mentioned that he may just have no one to talk to in his family and he was lonely. Olivier, to this, angrily replied that Briggs was enough family for him now-- but she honestly understood firsthand what it was like to be emotionally separated from one’s immediate family. The nonstop talk _definitely_ would be made more tolerable if he had even a slight sense of humor, though.

“Major Kellen Cordova,” the general said, her tone with the inflection that she was nearing the end of her list. With Halifax, Cordova was the other shorter man of the group-- if he could even be considered a man at all. Fresh out of the academy, he was immediately transferred to Briggs right after the events of the Promised Day, when the northern fort was needing to replace several soldiers it had tragically lost. Despite being extremely built for his age, Olivier could sense deep emotional nervousness from the boy, and while Oshkosh’s silence was calm and thoughtful, his seemed to stem from anxiety. Nonetheless, despite being considered fresh meat at Briggs and the Amestrian military in general, his prodigy-level military prowess was the reason that Olivier chose him as the last member of the party. “Special Ops Soldier.”

“And Captain Ethan Ivanov,” The blonde finished handing off the papers once she reached the other side of her desk where the wounded soldier was sitting. He took it, nodding a thank-you to her. “Just so we’re all on the same page with the plan.”

She returned to her seat as the men looked over their papers, wasting no time, “We will infiltrate the Drachman border tomorrow night under the cover of darkness. Be sure to have your snow camouflage uniforms ready, we won’t be going there in our blues.” She placed her index finger on a circled spot on the map, “Here is Valkeasary. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s basically the Briggs of Drachma. What we’ll need to do is give it a wide girth when we cross the no man’s land between us, so no _as the crow flies_ bullshit.” She lowered her eyebrows as she looked up to speak directly to them all, “We will _not_ take shortcuts in this-- We _must_ do everything right because there is _such_ small room for error. Do you understand me?”

The emphasis she put on her words let them know how serious she was without even asking for their understanding, yet they all still nodded in unison, several rather wide-eyed.

“The town near Chernotsk is, what,” She glanced back at Ivanov. “Belenezh, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, Belenezh,” she continued, her attention back to the map. “Is right here. Good news, it’s not too terribly deep into the country; but bad news, it’s not a nice stroll in the park. It’s still dangerous territory in a warmongering enemy country. Thankfully, there’s a few small towns we can restock supplies in. In times like that, we can send someone in.” She paused, glanced up at Oshkosh, and continued, “I’m thinking you, Major, since you look very Drachman.”

His nod allowed her to go on, “Whoever goes in can just pick up a few things. I say this because we need to travel light in order to keep up our speed and to not overburden ourselves, especially since our arctic gear is so heavy already. Naturally, we’ll have our guns and at least one radio plus a smaller spare to bring with us, too. That’ll be your job, Sikorsky.”

“At your service, General!” He replied loudly, saluting.

“I’ll do the rest of the packing, minus those radios,” Olivier continued. “Limit any personal items you may want to bring to small and pocket-sized, I’ll be packing lots of MREs, ammunition, and other essentials. Now,” she straightened, rolling up the map. “I hand-selected you all from every single one of the other Briggs soldiers. If you decline this mission, you will be discharged from the military. Do I have any objections?”

Silence.

“Beautiful. We leave tomorrow night, and none of you will breathe a word of this meeting or its contents to any living soul. You’re all excused from duty tomorrow so you can rest during the day, meet Miles and I at the back entrance to the fort. Yes?”

“Yes, sir!” Came the unison reply, some of the men more enthusiastic than others, yet all of them ready to serve their commander.

“Good, now shoo.” Olivier said, waving her hand with the map in it at her door. They filed out quickly and quietly, leaving her, Miles, and Ivanov.

“How are you holding up?” Miles leaned down to ask the captain.

“Oh,” The young soldier looked up at him, “I’m alright. Sitting down definitely helps. Thank you for the chair, General.”

Olivier nodded, turning to the two of them, “Is it alright if I keep your map, Captain?”

Ivanov nodded, carefully steadying himself on her desk with one hand as he stood, holding his  bandaged head with the other where his left eye once was. Miles made a move, obviously ready to help catch the soldier if he lost his balance, yet he thankfully didn’t.

“Are you heading back to the infirmary?” The major questioned, ever ready to assist.

Ivanov nodded, still holding his head, “I have a bit of a headache, I’m going to see if Doc has anything to give me.”

“Let me help you down,” Miles offered, turning over to Olivier, “Could I meet up with you in a few minutes, sir?”

“That’s fine,” Olivier said, nonchalantly fanning herself idly with the map. “I’m going to go bring some rucksacks to my bunk and start packing things. Could you bring as many MREs as you can carry and help me sort them?”

“Will do, sir,” Miles flashed her a quick salute before carefully touching Ivanov’s shoulder, leading him out of her office.

 

Miles carted the hand truck stacked with MREs down the hallway to Olivier’s bunk. He knew she for some reason enjoyed conveyor-system-like work, like sorting and packing things, so it made sense that she’d prefer to be in her bunk where she was more comfortable while doing such. He stopped the hand truck outside of her door, looked down at himself to make sure his uniform was neat, and slicked back his hair to make sure all was in the ponytail before knocking.

“Who is it?”

“Major Miles, sir.”

“Ah,” she replied from within. “Come in.”

Miles opened the door, his attention on the hand truck as he rolled it inside. He gently closed the door with his heel, looked up, and nearly knocked the hand truck over. Olivier had her back to him, and she was wearing the white pants that went with the snow camouflage uniform-- but no shirt, to Miles’s near-trauma. He caught an eyeful of a pink bra with white lace before she struggled into the shirt of the uniform, and the quarter-Ishvalan, horrified, covered his face with gloved hands.

Olivier glanced back at him, confused, “Are you okay? You’re _really_ red.”

“I-I.. I,” Miles couldn’t even choke out the words. “I am _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on you, sir.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “I told you to come in, you didn’t do anything wrong. Plus it’s only my back, and you’ve been my assistant for years. I know you’re not a twelve-year-old, Miles.”

His blush was only made worse by her use of his first name. _It would be different if you were anyone but the woman I’m head-over-heels for_ , he screamed to himself.

“Oh, thank you,” she piped up when she noticed the hand truck full of MREs. She squirmed a little in her shirt, which was obviously too tight. “I haven’t worn this old thing in years because I’m never needing to be camouflaged. I prefer my blues much more anyway, they have my medals on them and everything,” She complained, looking at herself in her mirror. “I thought this might happen, so I wanted to try them on before tomorrow.”

She drew in a deep breath to see how far the material would stretch, though it wouldn’t allow her lungs to expand all the way.

“Hell.”

“W-would you like me to go to storage and find you a bigger size?” Miles asked, still not fully recovered. Olivier nodded, and as soon as he saw her confirmation, the major fled her room as quickly as possible.

The general blinked, not fully sure what the big deal was about. Silently, she scolded herself. Did she just overstep a boundary? She had thought that they were close enough to be vulnerable like that, but she supposed she was wrong after all. She looked at herself in the mirror again, suddenly overcome with guilt and worry-- two emotions she didn’t often feel. Did she just injure their close friendship?

She took the shirt off and replaced it with her normal black undershirt as she waited for him to return. Olivier lifted up one of the MREs from the cart-- beef stew. This was one of her personal favorites, so she placed it in her rucksack first. Afterwards, she continued sorting them into each of the other soldiers’ backpacks in silence, trying to take her mind off of what just happened.

A few minutes later, Miles had returned to her bunk, a bigger shirt in hand. “Here sir,” he spoke, stooping down slightly to hand it to her since she had been sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Thanks,” she replied, examining the tag to see what size it was. Rather than stripping off her undershirt, she tried on the uniform over it, and was rather pleased.

“I can actually breathe in this one,” she said sarcastically flat, as if it were some sort of miracle.

“Good,” the major replied. He seemed to have finally regained his composure, Olivier thought. “May I sit?”

“Of course,” Olivier replied, moving over slightly to make room. He took his place sitting next to her and examined an MRE before he began packing, just as she had done.

Slightly afraid of worsening the situation due to the heavy atmosphere still in the room, Olivier remained quiet. If Miles were anyone else, she wouldn’t care, but he obviously was not.

He cleared his throat, earning a curious look from her. “I, um,” he began, slight nervousness in his voice-- though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been prior. “I didn’t know you liked pink.”

“Oh,” Olivier said, her voice a little buoyant, pleased that his tone was slightly more lighthearted as well. It was good that he was making conversation; she’d have been worried if their silence had continued. She made sure her reply contained a hint of playfulness, so he knew that no hard feelings were had between them, “I guess, just don’t let anyone else know. I have a reputation to keep.”

He chuckled, softly, but even the quiet sound was enough to make the general’s heart flutter in a strange and unfamiliar way, “Wouldn’t dream of it, General."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy longest chapter yet! I apologize for it being mostly introductions to original characters haha, whoops...  
> I hope I made them all believable enough, and don't worry. This fic is still about Olivier and Miles, these guys won't be taking the spotlight :p
> 
> Also I had to end on a Livmiles moment because I feel like I have a "cute quota" I have to make at least once every chapter uwu


	10. Moving Forward; Looking Back

Numerous eyes stared as the general made her way down the hallway of the fort; some in awe and others wide in confusion. The last time the blonde had worn the snow camouflage uniform was right before she was promoted to lead the fort-- from that point which she typically only donned the dress blues. Many of the soldiers of Briggs had never seen her wear such a thing, and even those that had been around as long as her were still taken aback by the seldom-seen clothing. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, though her bangs still slightly hid her right eye, and she hauled a large, nearly brimful rucksack that matched the white of her uniform.

Her adjutant followed behind her, pushing a large hand truck with the remainder of the filled rucksacks, in similar dress-- yet he had _never_ been seen in the camouflage. His own snow-blindness goggles were not worn, but rather in his pocket, in preparation for the soon addition of the combat goggles that were usually worn with the white. Last night, when he had tried the uniform on for the first time, it was a strange and unfamiliar sensation. The cloth was heavy in order to protect its wearer from the harshly low temperatures, and the goggles were much larger and tighter than the ones his typically wore to conceal his red irises. He quickly forced himself to get used to the new feeling, however, since these uniforms would be the safest possible outfits for them all in their venture. Although, he didn’t much care for how dark his skin seemed to contrast against the fabric-- Briggs had become his home, and he felt as if he wasn’t himself while not in the typical dress uniform, despite the camo still being a proud symbol of the northern soldiers.

Officers always wore their blues, even in battle, so the strange and bewildered looks the Briggs men were sending their way were rather justified. Several higher-up soldiers would periodically sidle up beside their commander and worriedly ask her what was going on in hushed tones, only to have the woman reply sharply, “Classified. Colonel Stryker is leading in our absence. We will return shortly, but he’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

Olivier and Miles eventually found themselves at the door to the infirmary. The blonde stepped inside quietly, drawing the attention of the lead doctor. She was one of the few who knew what was happening.

“General,” She spoke up, voice soft. “I thought you were getting ready to leave, is everything alright?”

Olivier simply nodded in reply, for once without a response. She made her way directly to the crib as Miles also entered the large room, having successfully parked the heavy hand truck. She peered into the crib to see Karelia, gumming at her pacifier, wide awake. When the Drachman noticed her favorite blonde come into view, she made a shrill noise in excitement and reached for her.

The doctor was nearby, laying out a soft blanket on the floor, “I was about to let her roam on this for a few minutes. Did you want to hold her..?”

“I’d like that,” Olivier replied, barely above a whisper. If anyone else were in the room, she would’ve merely grunted a reply rather than admitting that she wished to see her; she might as well admit that she, the mighty Northern Wall, _the Ice Queen_ , had developed quite the soft spot for the little foreigner. She reached into the crib, collecting the baby as gently as possible. Karelia immediately clung to her white uniform, examining it, dumbfounded at the color change.

The general moved down to the blanket, carefully sitting down with her legs crossed, the Drachman in her lap. Karelia seemed to be having a great time, looking around and trying to plot a route on which she should begin her exploring. Miles and the doctor watched in silence, allowing the moment to continue without interruption.

Olivier watched Karelia, expressionless, as she crawled out of her lap and onto the soft blanket. “Hey, kiddo,” she greeted softly, catching the baby’s attention. She turned back to the blonde and rocked back onto her haunches, watching her with wide, curious eyes. “We’re going to go find your aunt and uncle, okay? Does that sound good to you?”

Karelia reached forward, having noticed one of the polished buckles on Olivier’s white uniform.

“We’ll bring them back here, and we’ll all be in one piece. Then you can go back home.”

Miles’s expression fell slightly as he listened, hearing the slightest twitch of pain in her voice.

Olivier felt a lump in her throat as she gently set a gloved hand on the raven-black hair, rustling it gently and affectionately, before straightening again. Karelia watched, her eyes still full of wonder.

It was Miles’s turn to step up. He knelt down, and the baby squealed, dropping her pacifier from her mouth, at the sight of him. She reached for him, her fists making grabbing motions. He could feel his eyes already starting to water; partly because of how cute it all was, also because of why they were telling her goodbye in the first place. There was always a chance they would not make it back, especially since Amestris had never attempted a stealth infiltration of this sort into Drachma in the entirety of the nation’s history.

He reached forward, gently gathering in his arms in a gentle hug. He held her for but a moment, sniffling quietly as he tried to choke back the emotion. Not understanding, Karelia continued babbling happily throughout the hug, even as he set her back down.

“Come, Miles,” Olivier commanded, although quietly. She was already heading for the door, “These dumb, pointless maternal feelings are all hitting me at once, let’s get out of here.”

“Yes, sir,” his reply was almost inaudible, yet he straightened and turned to follow her out.

“Good luck,” the doctor said, sighing softly as they left. Her words were gentle, sincere, and with utmost apprehensiveness. The odds weren’t necessarily in their favor.

The general and her adjutant made it to the back entrance of the fort a few minutes after the rest of the party. Each of them saluted in unison, and Olivier gave them a nod as Miles wordlessly began handing out rucksacks.

“I’ve prepped the commo, General,” Sikorsky mentioned, turning slightly so Olivier could see the portable radio system strapped to him. “I can wear it over my rucksack.”

“Good,” the woman, shorter than nearly all of them, nodded once again. “You can work it out with someone else if you need to lighten your rucksack load slightly in order to accommodate. Now,” she began, taking her own backpack off and setting it on the ground in front of her. She opened it, showing its contents. “I managed to fit five twenty-four-hour MREs, some ammunition, water, some bandages, firestarters, and other small essentials in each of these. We have an extra ammunition case, if someone would be so kind as to carry it, and Miller has the rest of the first aid equipment. We have our radios,” she said as if she was going over a mental checklist. “All of your uniforms are in good shape and none of you have forgotten your goggles, correct?”

Everyone nodded.

“Make sure to go to the latrine, because I’ll leave any of you behind if you decide you need to make a pit stop within _at least_ six hours of us embarking,” She continued, then paused. “Wait, where the hell is Halifax?”

“Here, sir!” The young man nearly ran into her from behind. She swiftly turned to see him, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. He shot up a salute, yet her eyes narrowed.

“Why were you the last one here?”

“I was passing by Engineering and Development when one of the workers caught me, sir,” he replied, panting in between sentences. “They had tried to reach you in your office, but you had already left for here. They finished a prototype they’ve been working on and were wondering if you’d like to take them?” He lifted what looked like an explosives case.

“That’s the phosgene?” She questioned, taking the case. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

“They said it was because you wouldn’t let them test on animals,” Halifax added.

“With good reason. Do you question my judgement, Captain?”

Halifax nearly backpedaled, “Of course not, General! That’s just the reason I was a little late.”

“Mm,” Olivier replied, turning to make room in her rucksack for the case. “Are we all ready?”

“I believe so, sir,” Miles voice was the reply, soft and calm as ever. He looked to the other men to confirm, and once they responded, he turned back to Olivier, “Shall we head out, General?”

Olivier nodded, hiking the rucksack back up onto her shoulders before she opened the door to the outside world. Snow blew inside in a violent wind, wild and strong due to the pressure of the door opening, yet the party was used to it.

This was Briggs, and the hardened soldiers here were no stranger to the peril of nature nor the hostility of man.

 

 

“Are we there yet?” Halifax asked back to Olivier, who was walking behind the group. They were mostly in a single-file line, though Olivier and Miles walked side-by-side, as did Foster and Miller.

“Don’t you _dare_ fucking start that,” Olivier said back flatly, earning a snicker from the captain. “We’ve only been walking for two hours. If you’re already done, maybe you should go back to basic training.”

“I was just pulling your leg, Ma’am,” The young man chimed back cheerily, to which Olivier frowned.

“I’m going to regret bringing him, aren’t I?” Olivier sighed, and though she was partially talking to herself, Miles quietly replied.

“You brought him along because he’s the best scout in Briggs, sir.” His tone was gentle; the inflection he typically used when trying to calm Olivier down-- and it often worked wonders. “Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ll have to,” The woman replied, watching Halifax and Foster square off ahead of them.

“God, do you ever shut up?” The lieutenant colonel groaned dramatically, glaring daggers. “It’s a wonder that you’re a scout considering you can’t be stealthy for the life of you.”

“What makes you say that, chief?” Halifax tilted his head, eyes widening, feigning innocence. “I’m sneaky. I blend in with the shadows.”

“You’re a godforsaken oxygen thief is what you are,” Foster attempted to quicken his pace in order to get ahead of him, Miller trying to keep up in silence. He touched Foster’s arm gently to try and wordlessly diffuse the situation.

“Aww, so I’m not a good sneak?” Halifax hurried to catch up and egg the older man on. He held up a pistol by the barrel, triumphantly, “If I’m not a good sneak, then how did I just take your gun?”

Foster swing around immediately, trying to get a look at the holster at his hip, which was empty; “You little rat, how did you--”

Halifax laughed proudly, “Don’t act like you’re tough shit next time, Northrop.”

“Keep it moving,” the general spoke up, the severe impatience in her voice quickly quelling the argument. Foster snatched back his pistol and holstered it again before shooting the captain a nasty look and continuing on.

They walked along in silence for another good hour or so, the sky above them pitch-black, save for the bright light of the moon, which illuminated their path slightly. It reflected off the whites of the snow and their uniforms, slightly disrupting their camouflage, though they wouldn’t need it _quite_ yet. They remained in the no-man’s-land between Briggs and Valkeasary, the borders of each country.

The wide stretch of land between the two forts was empty, and for good reason-- without the neutral space between them, border conflicts even before the events leading up to the Promised Day would have been unavoidable. While tensions were uneasy between Drachma and Amestris, it was the completion of the nationwide transmutation circle that had finally tipped the scales of combat and broken the peace treaty. While it would have been best if the fighting was avoided, Olivier was at least slightly thankful that it was Drachma and not Amestris that had attacked first-- her country was, for once, not to blame. Unlike in the Ishvalan Civil War.

Another thing she was grateful for was the fact that the night was without snow. On one hand, it cleared the way for their voyage, yet the lack of clouds made them vulnerable-- under cloud cover, the moonlight would be slightly darkened, thus allowing them to be harder to spot if Drachman scouts were to look their way.

“So, what’s our plan for rest, General?” Sikorsky asked a few hours later, when the sun was beginning to rise.

Olivier thought for a moment before replying, “We move at night, and we find shelter during the day. If it gets to the point where we’re without shelter and physically unable to continue, we can pitch a tent and just be extremely careful with our placement of it.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” the major wholeheartedly agreed. “Should we keep on the lookout for a suitable place, then?”

“Yes,” was her only reply.

Miles knew she was trying to conserve her energy, she always got like this in dangerous or hectic situations. Her replies would often be short and simple, and while many thought that she was responding negatively to an outside stressor, he knew that in reality, she was using as little energy and brainpower as possible whilst still being alert. This was one of her military secrets-- in keeping calm now, she would be at full capacity to make quick decisions and command with extreme efficiency when the need arose.

Unbeknownst to him, the young Cordova had been watching him and Olivier for the majority of their walk, stealing glances back at them every once in awhile. He only truly noticed when the major spoke up, voice soft.

“Excuse me, General? Major?” he slowed his pace to match their stride, and while Olivier’s acknowledgement was simply her gaze flickering to the young man, Miles fully turned to look at him.

“Yes?” He asked, ever-polite.

“How did the two of you actually meet? I’ve heard a lot of rumors, but I wanted to know for sure. If that’s okay, I mean…"

“Of course,” Miles replied, lightheartedly in order to erase any nervousness Cordova may have had, judging by the anxiety in the younger soldier’s voice. He didn’t need permission from Olivier to tell; he knew their story wasn’t meant to be taken as some sort of secret. He was more than happy to share, especially since he viewed it as a masked opportunity to praise Olivier without seeming unctuous.

“You may already know, but I’m only a quarter Ishvalan,” Miles began, and while the older members of their party had heard it all before, Halifax had slowed his stride to listen curiously with Cordova as well. “I had lived in Central my entire young life, but I was the only one in my family who actually looked like this. My grandfather on my father’s side was the actual Ishvalan, and while I was always interested in the culture, I never learned the language or anything like that. I also had never visited Ishval, though it had been my dream to.”

The two young men listened, eyes wide as they paid close attention, resembling children at story time.

“Right before the Civil War actually broke out and that child was killed, they began rounding up Ishvalans who lived in Amestris rather than Ishval. In hindsight,” he sighed softly. “Even that was orchestrated by the Homunculi. Anyway, they found out about me and took me from my family just because I looked Ishvalan. I was just about to start finding my own place; I was in my early twenties. They deported me to Ishval, where I didn’t know any of the people or any of the language.”

“That’s horrible,” Cordova breathed, to which Miles nodded a reply.

“I was just starting to get used to everything and I had made a few acquaintances, but then the actual combat started and more soldiers were sent in. That’s when I met--” He nearly slipped and used her first name, “The general.”

“You didn’t try to kill him?” Halifax asked, innocent and curiously. “I feel like you of all people would be raring for a fight.”

“You obviously don’t know me well enough,” Olivier replied, not turning to them. “I’d kill if I was attacked, but I never initiated any fights-- a soldier’s true purpose is to defend their country and to kill the enemy that threatens the peace of that country, and many were not my enemy. Miles never attacked me.”

Her adjutant nodded to confirm.

“He mentioned his heritage and his past to me and I thought he’d be useful on our side. A state needs differing viewpoints if it’s to be genuine and successful. I wasn’t in Ishval for very long, since my platoon got recalled in order to execute Order thirty-sixty-six and send in the State Alchemists, so I managed to sneak him back to Briggs with me. We forged his military documents so that it was as if he was an Amestrian who had been enlisted the whole time.”

“How’d you manage to do that?” Cordova asked, enthralled. “That sounds like a romantic radio drama.”

Miles thanked the universe that his snow camouflage uniform was mostly covering his face, concealing the flush that rose to his cheeks, “It was pretty easy. I dropped my last name so that the government couldn’t find my family and arrest them for ‘ _harboring an Ishvalan_ ’, and I’ve just gone by my first name ever since. Besides that, it was a matter of Armstrong knowing people in Records and the fact that the government didn’t really come looking for me afterwards.”

“Miles isn’t your last name?” Halifax asked loudly, dumbfounded. Miles gave a small amused snort as he shook his head. “What last name did you use on your records?”

“Armstrong, it was easy and neither of us could think of anything better. And it’s not like Armstrong is a rare name in Amestris, it’s a really large family line,” Miles replied. “Plus it was only Armstrong on official records, so no one ever called me by it. I don’t even think anyone knew besides us.”

“Aww,” Halifax smiled, “it’s like you’re married.”

He cowered as Olivier shot him a glare, so cold and dangerous it could kill a man.

“After the war was over but the discrimination remained against Ishvalans, I told her I wanted to leave so that she wouldn’t get in trouble for harboring me, but she threatened to fight me if I tried,” Miles continued, ignoring Halifax’s comment. If he dwelled on it, he was sure he’d become a blushing and stammering mess. “And I would’ve been an idiot if I tried that. So I obviously stayed, and that’s when she gave me the snow-blindness goggles.”

“I thought you had said that you were already under her command during the war?” The younger major asked.

“I wasn’t fully lying,” the older replied. “The war was still ongoing, but it was nearing it’s end when I got to Briggs.”

Cordova nodded, understanding now.

“General,” Oshkosh said suddenly, turning back to the small group, his voice a low rumble. “There’s a cave.”

“Go scout it out,” the woman spoke. “It may be a nice place to rest for the day.”

Oshkosh nodded, walking ahead of the party, Halifax quickly following to help since he was technically the party’s scout. While they searched inside, the others waited out front.

The cave had a rather small entrance, but by the way Oshkosh and Halifax slipped inside and disappeared, it seemed as if it were much larger on the inside. It sat at the base of one of the large mountains, the opening having been carved out by erosion, or even possibly, a small glacier. The remaining soldiers peered into the darkness to await their comrade’s return, when Miles noticed that the general wasn’t near the group. He looked back, seeing that she had her backed turned to them all.

Silently, the blonde stared up at the sunrise, and in that moment, Miles’s heart blossomed. It was a feeling of comfortable and affectionate warmth that swelled in his chest; he had become quite used to the sensation by now.

Olivier glanced back at her soldiers and saw that Miles was staring at her, though she thought nothing of it, “How’s everything looking?”

Miles’s heart skipped a beat, worried that she was talking about his staring, but Miller’s voice replied from behind him, “Looks like everything inside is clear, General.”

“Good. Go on in, then, we’ll start a fire and you lot can eat if you want,” she nodded, making her way back towards them. Miller, Foster, Sikorsky, and Cordova entered the cave single-file, but Miles waited for Olivier to step in before him so he could bring up the rear.

The cave was cold and dark, but not nearly as cold as it was outside. They would also be sheltered from the snow, if the weather happened to change during the day. The soldiers all shed their rucksacks, and Sikorsky gently set his radio on the snow-coated ground. Since Oshkosh had his rucksack open first, out of politeness, his retrieved some firestarting materials and a match, promptly making a fire. They all took out a single MRE each, and they prepared them.

An hour or so later, all of their MREs had been eaten, and many of the soldiers were beginning to bed down for the day. Sikorsky was the first to crash, and he was already snoring loudly, military cap over his eyes like a sleep mask. Cordova and Halifax were asleep next, both of them curled up under the blankets each of them had packed. Oshkosh was wordlessly cleaning up the waste from his food as Miller and Foster talked quietly to one another.

Miles had just finished cleaning his own meal up, so he glanced over near the entrance of the cave. Olivier sat, by herself, near the entrance, yet not in plain sight-- she would still be difficult to spot from outside the cave once the fire was put out. Once again, her back was turned to them, keeping silent vigil as her soldiers prepared for sleep.

He carefully stood, making his way over to him. Foster and Miller’s talking was in very hushed, mindful tones, so the only sounds in the cave were the quiet noise of Oshkosh’s cleaning and Miles’s footsteps crunching in the snow.

“Hello,” he said, quietly and friendly.

“Hey,” Olivier replied casually, focused yet calm.

“How close are we to the border?”

“Close,” the woman responded. “Can’t say how close, but I recognize landmarks.”

Miles tilted his head, gingerly sitting down beside her, “You’ve been across the border before?”

“Only once.”

Miles’s silence informed her that he was curious what the circumstances were, so she continued, “I was there when Amestris renewed the Amestrian-Drachman Peace Treaty at the capitol. It was close to when the Ishvalan Civil War broke out, now that I think of it.”

She paused for a brief moment, “I was a colonel.”

“Wow,” Miles replied, finding it all genuinely interesting. “I had no idea.”

Olivier shrugged. “I didn’t actually visit Valkeasary, but I know we’re close. Probably close enough for there to be Drachman patrols around, actually,” she added, looking at him from the corner of her blue eyes. “So I’ll be keeping watch while everyone rests, just in case.”

“Olivier,” Miles said, immediately embarrassed that he used her first name-- though she didn’t even bat an eye. Since she didn’t comment, he decided to continue without apology, “You can’t stay up the entire time. Let me do it.”

“No.”

“How about we split the watch, then? At noon, or if you get tired before then, come wake me. I’ll take care of it,” he offered. For some reason he would never know, he was feeling bold-- so he laid a large hand on her shoulder, insisting her to enlist his assistance.

She calmly glanced at his hand for a short moment, before looking him in the eye again, “If you insist.”

“Thank you,” he gave her a warm smile before standing again. “Don’t hesitate,” he reminded her as he headed back to the dying fire.

Once he was out of earshot, Olivier sighed softly, sagging her shoulders and turning her gaze back to the rising sun once again.

If only she knew that the warmth she felt matched his perfectly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add last time that all of the soldiers, like the soldiers in FMA, are named after real-world military vehicles uwu  
> Hope you guys continue to like this even though we're getting into plot now and there's less fluff;; please let me know what you think  
> (also this chapter is longer than the last one fml)
> 
> I'm also planning on doing a much shorter, maybe even oneshot fic of Miles when he meets Olivier if you guys like that idea.  
> And I figured out to embed images, so enjoy a Karelia I drew <3 the rest of my art can be found on my instagram or tumblr, same name I have here.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, once again <3


	11. Personal

The party once again set out on their journey as soon as darkness had begun overtaking the cold sky. At around noon, despite not being tired and not wanting to interrupt her adjutant’s rest, Olivier had risen from her post and had made her way back deeper into the cave where her soldiers slept. Miles was asleep, his face turned toward the entrance to the cave, on his stomach. The blonde tiptoed as quietly as possible to him before kneeling, the only sound being the dull squeak of her boots as the material wrinkled; allowing her to balance her weight on her toes while not fully taking a knee or sitting.

For a second time, she hesitated, yet she ultimately reached out a gloved hand; gently touching his back. Her voice was soft, “Miles.”

It took him a moment, but his red eyes slowly opened. A beat passed as his vision focused before he seemed to tense beneath her hand, eyes widening slightly in surprise, “G-General?”

“Sorry,” the general apologized, voice still quiet. “Did you want to take over the watch? I can keep doing it if you’re tired.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Miles said, his voice a low rumble, husky from sleep. Olivier silently thanked the dark of the cave for concealing the blush that heated her cheeks. He slowly rolled over onto his back before stiffly getting up. For a moment, he sat upright and gave a yawn, “Just so you can get some rest.”

Olivier gave a slight, single nod, feeling guilty either way. She wouldn’t have gotten away with staying up all day even if she had tried; Miles would’ve chastised her about it that night, probably even insisting that _he_ stay up all day next time so they were even.

Without another word, she quietly stood and went to her backpack to prepare her own sleeping arrangements. Miles stood, retrieving his rifle before glancing back at her, “Sleep well.”

The blonde simply nodded in reply.  

 

 

“We’ve crossed the border,” Olivier announced, raising her voice some so everyone could hear her. Even though the snow that was now falling was a light and gentle drift, any heavier weather would’ve started to slightly drown out her voice. “Captain,” she said, glancing up at the cavalry scout who walked in front of her. Halifax obediently turned to listen before she continued, “You and I will scout ahead just to make sure there’s nothing dangerous nearby.”

“Got it, chief,” Halifax responded, beginning to walk ahead as Olivier moved quicker to follow.

Once they had a good distance between them and the group, the woman turned to make sure they were still within calling range. The young captain watched her in silence until she turned back to face the way they were headed. “Do you know how far in we are?”

“What, no jokes for once?” The general asked sarcastically, though she produced the map from the pocket in her uniform, handing it to him. He unrolled it as she continued, “I can’t tell exactly how far in we are yet, but we’re going the right way according to the compass. We completely avoided Valkeasary, like I had hoped.”

Halifax nodded, studying the map. “So, what, it should be maybe another day and a half of pure walking until we get to them, you think?”

“Given they haven’t changed locations for their safety. If Ivanov knew where they were, I guarantee you there’s other Drachmans who know-- and if word falls upon the wrong ears, they’ll be forced to relocate so they aren’t arrested.”

“Or killed on the spot,” Halifax spoke, rather darkly, though Olivier nodded in confirmation. Drachma had built up quite the reputation for strict punishments and ruthlessness towards enemies, rebels, and simply even civilian lawbreakers.

“Thank you,” the young man said as he rolled the map back up and returned it to his commander. “Hey General?”

“What,” Olivier sighed, obviously not in the mood to talk, though Halifax continued despite this. He glanced at her as they walked side-by-side, either soldier almost exactly the same height as the other.

“Why’d you join the military?”

 _God damn, **I love questions**_ , the general rolled her blue eyes in annoyance.

“Are you looking for some insightful commentary on my gender in this field, Captain?”

“Nothing like that, sir!” He quickly defended, turning his gaze back to the snowy expanse ahead of them. “I honestly just like to ask everyone. I’m curious about different peoples’ reasoning.”

“That’s fair,” the blonde didn’t sound fully convinced, so she elaborated. “You tell me your reasoning first, then I’ll tell you mine.”

“I asked you first.”

“This isn’t some party game at a sleepover, Halifax, I practically own your life.”

The captain smiled, pleased that the officer was finally returning some of his humor back to him, “Alright, then. It was because of my dad.”

“Interesting, go on.”

“He died when I was eighteen, so it’s been a decade, but… I had just graduated from school, and I didn’t really know what to do with my life. He died serving, so I thought I’d kind of enlist in remembrance of him. We were pretty close, so,” he trailed off, but chuckled quietly after a moment. “My ma was mortified, to say the least. She had been traumatized by his death, and she kinda blamed the military for it, even though it was no one’s fault, you know? She was afraid of me joining, too, but she had always been really proud of him. Her family had always been a military one, and she would’ve joined, too, but she wanted to be a housewife. She’s really glad I’m here now and I’m enjoying serving my country, though.”

“At least it’s finally a government that people can take pride in serving once again,” Olivier replied, gaze locked forward. She was silent, betting on him forgetting her part of the bargain.

“So, your story, boss?”

“You’ll be disappointed to hear that it isn’t nearly as noble as yours, Captain,” she muttered flatly, though this brief explanation only served to pique Halifax’s interest even further. She sighed softly after noticing his large, curious green eyes. “Fine, twerp. When I was little and my mother would be working with my younger sister-- it was only us two children at the time-- my father would sit me down and tell me military stories. He had been a general, and I really looked up to him, so I thought it was the coolest thing ever.”

She smiled to herself for a brief moment, recalling the fond memories, the action surprising her soldier. After a beat, however, her smile faded. Only a small few of her recollections of childhood served to bring a smile to her face-- her young life from this point on in her story had severely gone downhill.

“We began to grow apart naturally as I became a teenager, and I got closer to my mother. We were already close because I would always help her with my siblings, but it was when she was done raising her children that we finally had time to actually have the beginnings of a real mother-daughter bond. It was also around this time that my father began forcing these roles and expectations onto me, like being perfect in school, wearing certain kinds of makeup, and being all petite, polite, and quiet. I realized what he was doing around when he began talking to me about finding a nice, rich guy from any of the number of wealthy families that we were acquainted with. I had just graduated, and he was wanting me to date and marry young-- he even went as far as to introduce me to not one, but _four_ different suitors.”

“Were they just _appalling_?” Halifax asked with a small smile, though there was no sarcasm or snark to his voice-- just genuine understanding, for once.

 _That doesn’t even begin to describe them,_ She thought to herself, her mood instantly sour again from the remembrance. All overly nice, she had always felt as if there was a second side they hadn’t been showing to her, and what they were introduced as was always merely a sick act.

“Just _horrifyingly_ bland and boring. They were like _empty shells_ of people, for god’s sake,” Olivier exclaimed, showing more emotion than she normally did as she, slowly, over the course of her tale, became more comfortable with the captain. Halifax chuckled as she went on.

“I hated them all. Yeah, they were all very polite and rich, and sometimes handsome, or whatever, but I knew better. I saw how silent my mother was when we had guests over, always letting my father do the talking. She had a say in close to nothing; in her prime she was just a trophy wife and nothing more. I honestly doubt that she loved him at all,” the blonde frowned.

“So, I began to act up and get myself into trouble, in an attempt to get my father to disown me, or something. I don’t even really know what I was thinking, I just wanted to rebel against him and what he wanted. I wanted to be more than a baby-making machine, and I didn’t want to be stuck with some breathing mannequin for the rest of my life. I wanted to marry someone for love.”

Halifax listened in silence, their boots crunching in the snow as they walked.

“I wanted to actually make something out of my life; my mother had always told me that life was a gift not everyone was granted. I wanted to do something important for her, since she never had the opportunity to. So, I sought out the military,” one corner of her lips raised slightly; the shadow of a smirk changing the way the moon cast dull light upon her face. “I thought my father was going to keel over when I announced it to him.”

She glanced back to make sure she could still see her soldiers walking behind them. When she was able to confirm that everything remained unchanged, she turned back around to the way ahead.

“I signed up for the academy under his nose, and I was at the top of my class come graduation. Fifty graduates, and I was the only girl-- not even much of a woman, at that point. I got recommended to training to become an officer, and I immediately agreed and enlisted.” She thought about something in silence for a moment, before concluding, “It started out as me wanting to be my own person, and it ended with me wanting to make a change in our country for the better. I knew the corruption in the government ran deep,” she lowered her voice to a flat and muted grumble, “Not as deep as having Homunculi involved, but still deep enough that people were getting hurt by it-- physically hurt, economically or socially hurt, so on. I mean, look at Ishval.”

Halifax nodded, “That seems pretty noble to me, sir. We both joined for our mothers, in a way.” Olivier shrugged her shoulders slightly, already calmer than when she was telling her story, since she wasn’t being forced to remember anything else at this point.

“Motherhood can be a difficult and trying task; I only know because I helped mine raise all four of my siblings. I feel like she didn’t have nearly enough time to actually bond with each and every one of us since she was almost always pregnant for those years. It’s _disgusting_ , I don’t even want to imagine that that wasn’t what _she_ had wanted,” her gaze lowered to the snow beneath them, darkened by the night. It was rare that she felt pangs of guilt, but with many of her interactions with Miles and all of these sudden memories resurfacing recently, she was feeling that ache in her heart quite often now. She despised it.

“Still, I think we both had very good reasons.”

“Just don’t mention it to anyone. I had only told that to Miles and Captain Buccaneer-- and Miles will never tell a soul. If we get back to Briggs and everyone starts asking me if I really had a rebellious teenager phase, I’ll kill you myself after you spend a nice week in the prisons,” the general responded, gaze once again locked ahead of her.

“Don’t need to tell me twice, boss,” Halifax smiled to himself, pleased with himself for learning an interesting backstory about the fort’s mysterious leader that all her other soldiers could only ever hope to hear.

She had always been an enigma.

 

 

“So, Lewis,” Sikorsky piped up, friendly as ever. Miller looked up at him, Miles between them, before humming in acknowledgement. Oshkosh and Foster had walked ahead to discuss hunting, which Miller disliked, so the medic had fallen back to walk beside the two majors. Cordova walked by himself, behind the pack. Everything had remained silent until the more talkative of the trio spoke.

“How’re you and Northrop doing?”

Everyone knew, for the most part. Briggs as a whole was a rather accepting place, especially considering how many people requested to be stationed there due to personal secrets and the like. Everyone knew Olivier never asked questions about her soldiers-- as long as they were skilled fighters who were loyal to her first and foremost, they could be Homunculi for all she cared.

“Oh, better,” Miller replied with a small smile, appreciative that he showed concern, Miles guessed. “Thanks for asking.”

“Did something happen between you two?” Miles asked, eyebrows furrowing, a tinge of worry on his voice. While he personally didn’t know any of these soldiers as well as they knew each other-- he always spent his time working alongside Olivier, anyway-- he was aware of how close the captain and lieutenant colonel were. Whenever they were allowed, the pair would be talking. During free time, they’d disappear together-- even if they weren’t actually doing anything that warranted sneaking around, they just purely enjoyed each other’s company. Olivier often joked to Miles that they should both retire and get married already.

Miller shrugged slightly, eyes half-lidded as he glanced at the ground they walked upon. The gesture only concerned Miles further. “Not really anything inherently bad, no. We just butt heads sometimes, over small things.”

“Don’t let it worry you, sport,” Sikorsky replied, smiling warmly. “Couples butt heads sometimes, sure, but what matters is the fact that you’re able to sort out what bothered the two of you.”

Miller nodded, though his gaze did not rise from the snow, “He’s just so obsessed with work. With the holidays coming up, I wanted to request to Armstrong to have a few days off so we could go down to Central or something and spend time together, but he always--”

He cut himself off, noticing his voice was raising slightly in frustration. Perhaps he was about to curse, Miles thought, since the medic typically tried his hardest not to use foul language despite being in the military-- where politeness and censorship often went out the window, unless you were speaking directly to a superior.

He sighed softly, quieting down, “Sorry. It’s just that I brought it up, but he wants to stay at Briggs so he can catch up on work. I just want him to relax for a bit, you know?”

Miles and Sikorsky both nodded, the latter responding again, “Is that all that’s troubling you? Maybe you could just request off a few days at Briggs. Just hang out in one of your bunks.”

“Well,” Miller spoke up again, his voice even softer, and filled with apprehension. “I kind of wanted to propose to him in Central--”

“You should!” Miles replied, suddenly filled with resolve, causing the younger man to flinch slightly in surprise. Marriage had always been a life goal of his-- he often admired the deep bond that married people had with one another, and it always had been an object of envy for him. He wanted to deeply love and share his life with someone, too.

“I know you two are really close, I think it’s a good idea,” the general’s adjutant continued, quickly calming himself down once he realized how loud he had been. “Does he want to get married? Have you discussed it?”

“A little,” the medic responded, ever-so-slightly more comfortable now, due to Miles’s extreme reaction. “He mentioned wanting to get married and start a family when he was younger and before he learned he liked men, but I don’t know if he just liked the _concept_ of it, you know..?”

Sikorsky nodded, “I completely understand. Took me a whole year to convince Maja to marry me,” he chuckled. Miles noted that he often talked about his late wife-- _very_ often, actually. The adjutant chalked it up to just the intense love Sikorsky felt for her, how devastating her death must have been on him, and how much he missed her-- even after all the years that had passed.

“She enjoyed _torturing_ me with waiting, though,” his smile remained. “I wanted to elope, but she always said no with this big smile of hers. I think she was just testing my devotion, and by god I passed the test eventually.”

Miles let a small smile rise from him. Even though Maja was gone, it was nice hearing how much the major _still_ loved her to this day. It was the admiration Miles, one day, wished to give someone-- and have reciprocated, “I’m glad you two have been able to experience deep love like that. I wish the best for both of you.”

Sikorsky cocked his head; never really knowing where there was a line to be drawn, “Didn’t you have a wife, sir? Who wasn’t Ishvalan?”

Miles blinked, suddenly wishing he could melt, or that the light snow that fell around them could just suddenly smother him. He had lied about having a wife-- once before, to Edward and Alphonse Elric when they had first arrived at Briggs.

He only did it because he was making a point about how he wasn’t a full Ishvalan, and half of his family had no Ishvalan blood that ran through their veins at all. He had told them that his grandmother and father weren’t Ishvalan-- along with his wife. To be entirely fair, the woman he was imagining when he said that was one of the most pure-of-blood Amestrians someone could possibly meet in this day and age.

“Oh, well,” he stammered, the falter immediately drawing both Miller and Sikorsky’s respective attentions. “Not really. I had only mentioned that because, I… well.”

He was too far gone to really back out of the situation, but he didn’t want to confess his feelings to these two soldiers, in the middle of enemy territory. He wanted the person who was the object of his affection to be the first to know, even though he was aware that some soldiers were already beginning to guess.

“The woman I would _like_ to marry isn’t Ishvalan.”

The fact that his answer was rather vague _did_ help his case slightly-- there weren’t many Ishvalans that people this far north had been exposed to, save for Miles and Scar. Considering that before the Promised Day, Ishvalans had been confined to camps, it made all the sense in the world that the person the adjutant loved wouldn’t be of that race-- unless he had met them during the Civil War, though that had been nearly two decades prior.

Miller and Sikorsky made eye contact, the subtle action sparking a feeling of worry in Miles’s stomach. Did they know?

“What’s she like?” Miller asked suddenly, his smile a ray of sunshine in the darkness of the night.

Caught entirely off-guard, Miles blinked as he searched for as indistinct an answer as possible. He hated lying to the soldiers of Briggs, so he’d prefer to stretch the truth as far as possible until they had an answer they were satisfied with.

“She’s… beautiful. The most lovely person I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing.”

It was Sikorsky’s turn to smile, “Wow, Major. You sound like me. Do go on.”

 _It seems that he’s at least_ **_semi-aware_ ** _of how much he talks_ , Miles thought. He tried to hide the way his eyebrows knit together in thought, hoping that the darkness and the cover of light snow would conceal his expression. “She’s unlike anyone I have ever met. Just very special, and different, and admirable.”

He specifically avoided words like “powerful” and “strong”, since the first female person Briggs soldiers would associate those adjectives with would obviously be Olivier.

“Does she know how you feel?” The medic questioned. Miles was silent for a moment, and rather than saying something, he shook his head. “It wouldn’t work out since she’s Amestrian. Her family would hate our bond-- if she even reciprocated my feelings in the first place, which she shouldn’t,” Miles responded, choosing to have his information be hazy once again in favor of not giving everything away. While it was true that their races may be a factor, it was also their careers in the military that would prove dangerous to a romance-- especially between officer and adjutant.

Miller’s eyebrows furrowed, “ _Shouldn’t_? Why do you say that?”

“She just deserves better,” Miles replied, plainly. It was what he truly believed, after all. “I want her to make the best decision possible if she ever decides to be romantic with someone, and I doubt it would be me.”

“Major Miles, sir--” Sikorsky started, though Olivier and Halifax turned and began making their way back to the group. Obviously not wanting his superior to hear their conversation, Miles quickly interrupted the other major.

“O-oh, they’re coming back. I had better go meet the general to see what’s the status on things. I enjoyed talking with you two,” he said hurriedly, trying to be polite while still wanting to get away as quickly as possible. He sped up, not waiting to see the two soldiers’ reactions before he went to meet up with the captain and the general.

“General,” he greeted, flashing a salute as he reached them. The trio stopped, allowing the rest of the group to catch up. “Any news?”

“There’s buildings ahead in the distance,” Olivier glanced back in the direction her and Halifax had returned from. “They look civilian, but it’s hard to tell with the magnifying glass through the darkness and the snow.”

Halifax nodded, respectfully allowing the general to report. “We’ll find somewhere to set up for tonight even though we have a few hours until daybreak,” she continued. “It would be dangerous to continue any further without knowing for sure that those establishments aren’t military or production facilities, because even factories are heavily guarded in this country.”

“Understood,” Miles replied. “Shall we begin looking for shelter, then?”

The blonde woman nodded as the remaining soldiers closed in, “I think it may be rather difficult, though. Doesn’t look like we’ll be as lucky as we were yesterday with finding a cave, but there’s enough cover by the mountains and rocks that we may just have to pitch tents. So be on the lookout for a nice enclosed area, preferably with one exit.”

“Better to get cornered than to have attacks from multiple sides,” her adjutant responded.

“Precisely.”

 

 

They didn’t bring a tent for each person-- rather, the party brought three. Oshkosh, Sikorsky, and Cordova were to sleep in one, while Miller, Foster, and Halifax had another. It was protocol for officers to have their own separate tents when out in the field, though Miles had told Olivier he would be fine sleeping in another if she wanted her privacy. The general, however, insisted that it was fine. Four in one tent would be too many, she had said.

Everyone else was bedded down in their tents already-- this time, Oshkosh had volunteered to stay up for half the night to keep watch. Olivier had hesitated to allow him to do so, though Miles reassured her that Oshkosh was a trustworthy soldier-- he had seen combat many times prior to this mission, and he wasn’t one to fall asleep during watch or anything of the sort. Reluctantly, the major general ended up allowing it. Miles had already set up shop and snuggled under a blanket as Olivier rolled out her sleeping bag. She crawled inside without retrieving a blanket from her rucksack.

Initially, Miles said nothing, since her back was turned to him, until he noticed her begin to shiver beneath the single sleeping bag layer. In this climate, it was practically required to pack blankets to sleep beneath, and while Miles thought the absence of a blanket in the cave the day prior was fine, they were actually out in the elements this time.

“Olivier,” he spoke up, her first name grasping her attention. Immediately, her shivering stopped.

“What is it?”

“Did you not pack a blanket?”

Olivier was silent for a moment before responding again, “I didn’t have enough room.”

“Everyone else did, why did you not have room? You could’ve asked me to carry one for you.”

“I packed extra ammunition, medical equipment, and two spare MREs,” Olivier replied quickly, as if she was admitting to a crime. “Just in case something happened and we needed more. I don’t want anyone to be caught without what they need.”

Miles felt his expression soften, and his rather frustrated mood dissipate slightly. He was momentarily angry with her for not packing what she needed, yet he couldn’t help but take this moment down as one of her typical silent, selfless acts. There were many instances where she would do small things for her soldiers and never ask for any recognition-- the broken stopwatch she used when timing her soldier’s return in the tunnel that Sloth had dug under Briggs, for example. She was the cold and ruthless Ice Queen to many, and while Miles knew this and believed it to be true, what others _weren’t_ aware of was her actual wholehearted devotion to those under her command. Miles, however, always noticed, yet he never brought it up.

“I would’ve brought one for you, General,” he repeated.

“Then you would’ve had less room in your rucksack, Miles.” She said, as if that mattered to him.

“Let me give you my blanket,” He moved to sit up.

“Stop it, I don’t want it,” she snapped slightly.

He sighed, understanding where this mood of hers came from. Once again, while many soldiers would’ve taken her words to show anger, her adjutant knew otherwise. She wanted to be strong for her soldiers and provide for them, yet in doing so she sometimes neglected her own needs, “Olivier, please, don’t be childish. I’m larger than you are, the cold won’t affect me as badly as it will you.”

“No.”

He worked his jaw slightly, trying to fight down the frustration that was rising again. Why did she have to be so stubborn?

“We’ll share it.”

The blonde finally glanced at him from over her shoulder, her icy blue eyes narrowed in a glare.

“I insist. You know me, General, I just don’t want you to be cold.”

There was a long pause, and Miles would’ve thought that her lack of a response would signify her disagreement, though the fact that her eyes remained staring back at him showed that she was actually in deep thought.

She said nothing as she swallowed her pride and scooted closer to him in her sleeping bag. Respecting her silence by also not saying anything further, her adjutant extended the blanket to her.

Miles rolled onto his back, just in case it would’ve made her uncomfortable for him to face her. She stirred for a moment as she got comfortable before Miles finally felt her settle down beside him. Yet, after another few minutes, she began to shake again. Miles sighed, “Olivier.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Now you’re _trying_ to antagonize me,” Miles said through a small smile. “You know I care about you and your health, sir.”

He didn’t notice what implication his words had necessarily made, but Olivier had-- and as a result, she was silent for a moment. Miles, however, thought she was just ignoring him, so he continued, “What can I do, General?”

Olivier hummed a low, universal “I don’t know” sound.

The major knew what he wanted to say, yet he was terrified to ask. It would be the boldest thing he had ever said to her-- but they were in the middle of the snowlands in Drachma, and what goes on in Drachma stays in Drachma.

“I could hold you, just to warm you up,” he added quickly. “Think nothing of it other than ensuring your survival, General.”

He didn’t notice, but Olivier pursed her lips together in nervous thought. The weak feeling of hers was back once again, though his last sentence had caused her heart to dip slightly. Thinking logically, though, she imagined it would honestly help, “I suppose.”

He nodded slightly, carefully moving to wrap an arm around her. The contact immediately caused his heart to leap in his ribcage, and he prayed that she couldn’t literally feel the beat that was skipped since his chest was now pressed against her back. “Is this fine, sir?”

“Don’t ever breathe a word of this to anyone,” she replied defensively, though in all honesty, she _was_ beginning to warm up. Though, maybe it was just the deep blush rising to her cheeks that was feigning her internal rise in temperature.

“You know I would never dream of it,” Miles reassured her, closing his eyes. He was taller than her, and nearly able to rest his chin on the top of her head, if only circumstances were different. He wished this rather intimate moment didn’t have to be shadowed by a survival tactic, but he _would_ do anything for her above himself-- and he _did_ notice that her shivering had stopped, so he was pleased.

Unbeknownst to him, this was the most comfortable Olivier had been when falling asleep in years.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every most recent chapter has been the longest haha;;;;  
> There was a lot of dialogue in this one, but it was all character building and even some fluff, so I hope you enjoy  
> (enjoy the fluff while it lasts <333)
> 
> Plus Halifax's character design since he seems to be the most popular of the ocs hehe  
> Thank you to Parisa (word-spielen) for helping me with this chapter a little <3


	12. Obstacles, Natural and Manmade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I never do chapter notes at the beginning, but I wanted to give you all a fair warning. This chapter contains some canon-typical violence, but I won't be setting up an archive warning simply because the entire series isn't just filled with it, it will only be in a few chapters and I'll be sure to warn you in front of each chapter that contains such. I will make a footnote at the end with more notes just like I normally do and I'll include a brief summary just in case you don't fancy yourself to read this kind of stuff. It's nothing awful (plus, like I mentioned, it's all canon-typical) but I wanted to give you all a warning anyway because I will not be adding an archive warning. Thanks for your continued support.

When she awoke as the sun set, her first thought was that she was the warmest and most comfortable she had ever felt in her life. She didn’t question how-- she simply shifted slightly, getting situated again before settling back down. A few moments passed before her face flushed a deep red and her eyes snapped open, remembering with a sudden start where she was. 

Her adjutant had both his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her against him, as he remained in deep sleep. She was pressed against his strong chest, which was rising and falling gently with each calm breath he took. Olivier glanced up at his face to confirm that he was truly asleep before she slowly began to steady herself. She would never admit it out loud, of course, but this  _ was _ very comfortable. She was facing him now, unlike when she had fallen asleep, and her arms were comfortably folded against her own chest. 

Olivier let a small sigh escape her lips as she blinked slowly; once again relaxing. She could already see that the sky was darkening through the fabric of their tent, yet it was not quite dark enough for her to get up and wake her soldiers-- so, for the first time in years, she decided to sleep in a little. Miles was asleep, so she figured it would be completely fine if she just buried her nose in his chest, enjoying this moment with him. No one would ever know, not even him. 

  
  


The general had not noticed she was dozing until she heard the shuffle of snow outside of her tent. She blinked awake, still curled up next to Miles, who remained asleep. Ever-cautious, Olivier slowly sat up and eyed the zipped entrance to the tent, her hand instinctively finding the pistol that lay beside her. She carefully got up from under the blanket and out of Miles’s arms-- though she struggled for a moment due to his grip on her. She watched his expression as she did so to make sure she did not wake him-- and though she noticed his eyebrows furrow slightly as she moved, he did not wake. 

Carefully, Olivier stood with her weapon and stepped up to the tent opening, unzipping it and peering out. The sky was now dark, yet the last sliver of sunlight was still visible on the horizon. However, what the blonde also noticed was the heavy snow that obscured her view of said sunset.

“General,” Foster suddenly greeted, a few feet away from her tent. Though she wasn’t expecting it, his voice did not necessarily startle her. He must have taken over the watch from Oshkosh. 

“Lieutenant Colonel,” she returned his acknowledgement as she strapped her pistol holster around her waist. “Any news?”

Her soldier shook his head as he made his way closer, snapping her a salute as she fully exited her tent, “Not other than the weather, sir. I was just on my way to come warn you of it beginning to snow, but there wasn’t much of a build up before it got this heavy. I’m afraid it’ll worsen into a blizzard soon.”

“Lovely,” Olivier replied, sighing. The mountainous regions of Drachma were infamous for their unpredictable weather patterns. She watched the dense snowfall, the strong wind-- luckily, the party had set up camp under the cover of a rocky outcropping from a mountain, so they would be shielded from enemy sight unless a patrol drew near to them. It seemed as if it sheltered them from the worst of the weather as well. The air had a freezing bite to it that stung the blonde’s cheeks-- giving her the sneaking suspicion that their weather troubles would not soon be over. 

She remained silent as she watched the sky, prompting Foster to speak again, “Shall I wake everyone else...?”

“No, let them rest a bit longer, but don’t let them go on for too long. We’ll stay here until it lets up, since there’s no telling if it will just get worse.”

“Good thinking, sir,” Foster saluted again. “Permission to go ahead and eat?”

“Knock yourself out. Just keep standing watch-- no one leaves this camp, and though I doubt anyone uninvited will enter it, the enemy knows this weather and this area even better than we do, and I don’t want you all to get caught with your pants down,” she replied, not waiting for a reply before she ducked back into her tent. 

Miles was now stirring in his sleep-- disturbed by the sound of her and Foster’s talking, she guessed. She made her way back over to her rucksack, taking out an MRE as she heard the major groan sleepily.

“Olivier?” He asked through a yawn.

“You don’t have to get up,” She replied, her voice soft, not looking at him as she closed her rucksack. “We won’t be leaving for a while.”

‘Why not?” Miles asked, sitting up. “Is everything alright?”

The blonde nodded, retrieving a match next, “Just a blizzard blowing in. We may lose a day if it keeps up, we can’t travel in it.”

The man sighed, running a hand through his hair-- which was slightly coming out of his ponytail. With his other hand, he tugged off his hair tie to redo it. 

“Want to eat?” Olivier offered. “I can start one of your MREs for you.”

Her adjutant simply nodded. 

  
  


Unfortunately, the blizzard was not a day long. Instead, the snow and winds only dissipated after three days, forcing the soldiers to hunker down in their makeshift camp for much longer than they would have liked. They had to use their MREs, and while each individual package held enough food for twenty-four hours, they were running out quickly. 

Olivier watched over her soldiers as they packed up their tents, the fabric weighed down by snow. She was silent for a long time, only speaking up when everyone was nearly packed for the remainder of their journey. 

“We’ll have to move quicker to make up for the time we’ve lost,” she calmly announced to them. “We’re nearly black on food, so that means we travel faster and for longer amounts of time. We’ll see if travelling an hour and a half before and after sunset and sunrise will help make up for this unfortunate obstacle. Understood?”

Her soldiers, disheartened by this new development and their lack of progress, nodded their heads. 

Miles made his way to her after packing their tent, carrying her rucksack. Wordlessly, he moved behind her and helped her put it on, his fingers brushing against her back for a fleeting moment. The contact reminded her of when they slept the other night, and it brought heat to her face-- though thankfully, it wasn’t very visible in the night, and if questioned, she could blame it on the cold air. In addition to causing a blush rise, it also left a sharp stab of pain in her heart. She wanted to have that moment again. 

“We heading out, sir?” The man asked her quietly and politely as he backed off. He could sense that she was crestfallen as well as she nodded in reply--though for reasons different from her soldiers’. While they muttered and complained under their breath simply about the weather holding up their journey, Olivier silently brooded over the encroaching danger. Every day they remained in Drachma, the more perilous their voyage became, and the more likely they were of being found out. 

They set out once again, the general and her adjutant now in front. Olivier felt it would be safer if she took lead, since they were now getting closer to civilization and their path would need to be more calculated to ensure their safety. Naturally, Miles fell in beside her. 

They eventually topped a hill of snow, Cordova nearly losing his footing and falling before Oshkosh caught him by the hood. “Careful,” Olivier warned back to them over her shoulder. “Try not to make any big movements. They’re more easy to spot from afar.”

She didn’t wait to see their nods of understanding before she turned ahead, squinting as her blue eyes focused. There was what was an obvious military outpost-- a small, yet tall building, and intuition told that it was sure to be armed with soldiers and lookouts. Other flatter buildings surrounded it and dotted the horizon in front of them; dark geometric shapes that only slightly contrasted the dark blue of the moonlight reflecting the snow. While the general would have very much liked to avoid them entirely, she mainly wanted to give the outpost an especially wide girth. The closest of the lone buildings, despite still being far away, looked as if it were simply an abandoned shack of sorts, so it would be wise to head in its direction. There weren’t many paths they could take that would be free of buildings once they reached closer to their goal-- which, while being a rural town, was still deeper inside the country than Olivier would prefer. The farther in they would have to go, the more outposts they would have to clear. 

“Keep your heads low, and try to be quiet,” the general said back to her soldiers. Instinctively, Oshkosh, being the tallest, hunched slightly. Olivier glanced back to confirm that everyone was still accounted for-- which they were.

Her eyes darted down to the snow below them, scanning their tracks for a moment. Miles had been watching her, and he noticed the subtle movement of her eyes and where they trailed to. “What are you thinking, General?” He asked curiously. 

“We don’t need to do it now,” the blonde woman began, making her way down the slight slope of the hill. “But when we head back, we’ll have to try masking our numbers by walking single-file and walking in each other’s footprints. That is, if it isn’t snowing. That would definitely cover our tracks as well.”

Miles knew she almost also added  _ ‘that is, if we make it out alive’, _ but neither of them said anything further. He just nodded in understanding, following behind her. 

They eventually reached the abandoned shack. It showed signs of age, even despite the obvious fact that no one had lived there in quite some time. The windows had long been broken, the walls and roof were wooden, the panels rotted and even collapsed in places. Snow had piled inside the interior through several large holes, including one huge mound from where the snow had fully caved in the roof. 

Olivier peered inside one of the broken windows, her heart stopping once she registered what was inside-- a fire pit. While it had been buried and snuffed out with dirt, no snow was around it. “Someone has been here recently,” Olivier began, her voice low, yet still loud enough for her soldiers behind her to hear. 

She turned back to them as she spoke, just as a gasp came from one of her men in the back. She couldn’t tell which, but the next moment went too quickly for the general to make any sense out of it. 

“Drachmans!”

The word flew from Foster, who was already drawing his pistol. Olivier caught a blur of Oshkosh yanking his rifle from his back, Sikorsky following suit. She heard ringing amongst the yells as her adrenaline immediately spiked; used to the familiar sensation of blood pumping in her ears and her vision brightening-- practically hearing the quickened beat of her heart thud against her ribcage.

Bullets were ricocheting off of the building behind them-- some of the nastier ones lodging themselves into the wooden panels of the walls, splintering. Her soldiers were firing back, and she saw one of the Drachmans fall. The enemy was placed upon a hill of snow similar to the one they had scaled earlier-- but it was obvious what direction they had come from. It seemed as if they failed to avoid the eyes of the outpost after all. 

They were backed against a wall, and the enemy had the higher ground-- but Olivier knew how to think quickly. She spun on her heels, rearing back a fist, and throwing a punch into what remained of the window. Glass pierced her white glove, immediately staining it an angry red as she drew her hand back to her. It would have definitely been painful if her adrenaline wasn’t working on her-- all it felt like was a blunt force. 

“Inside!” She tossed her head back to her soldiers as she cleared out the rest of the glass shards from the windowpane. A few men quickly came to her, diving into the window as bullets continued to bounce off the walls and plunge into the snow at their feet. Oshkosh, too large to fit inside the window, quickly sought out one of the large holes in the side of the wall, where snow had flooded inside. He turned and ran as swiftly as his heavy frame would allow him to as his feet sank in the snow, Halifax following shortly behind him.

A shot rang out, and the captain was suddenly in the snow. 

Olivier didn’t have a chance to go to him. She climbed through the window, noticing that the Amestrian soldiers already inside were now pointing the muzzles of their guns out of holes in the other windows and walls, taking shots from behind cover. She heard a soft thud and the shuffling of snow as another Drachman fell, his body tumbling down the hill. 

The general’s mind swam as she thought of what to do. She turned back to her soldiers, all of their eyes trained on the enemy outside. “Throw a grenade if they come any closer,” she ordered. At their current distance, the other soldiers were too far for an accurate throw, but if they gained on the Briggs men, a grenade would at least warn them not to continue, if the blast didn’t kill any of them first. 

Olivier spotted a hole in the wall on the opposite side of the building. Mentally, she plotted out a path of attack-- if she could slip out from the side, she may be able to find cover closer to the hill, where she could get a closer shot at them.

She would not allow this to so easily be the end of their mission.

Ignoring a concerned and confused protest from Miles, she slipped through the opening with ease due to her own small stature. She hunched as she snuck around, her feet as quick as those of a thief. She set a hand on the hilt of her sword to prevent it from hitting her leg and making a sound as her other hand held her pistol. Luckily, there were large piles of snow all around the area that were shielding her movement-- and while she could no longer see the enemy, she could hear the gunshots and their shouts in Drachman.

She finally reached an angle where she was behind them, not even twenty feet away. Four remained.

Creeping closer, she raised her pistol and aimed. She needed to be close enough to make a move to strike the others, she calculated, since killing one from farther away would allow the others time to turn around and attack her. 

She took her shot, the Drachmans unprepared for such a sound coming not from one of their own weapons, but from behind them. It seemed as if they were in stunned silence for a moment until the one Olivier had fired at dropped to the ground, blood slowly melting into the snow. The sight of this caused them to realize what happened, and the remaining three all spun at once.

One screamed, lurching back as the Amestrian general shot him in the shoulder. He dropped his gun to clutch at the burning and seething pain, not noticing his comrades as one’s neck was sliced with a silver heirloom sword, the other’s jaw broken by the blunt force of his own pistol as the blonde woman grabbed it from his hands and struck him with it. He reeled just as the other had done, clawing at his jaw, still in shock, before he was also put down by another shot. The one with the wounded shoulder began to run, but Olivier plunged the sword deep into his back. Though she was at an angle behind him, she could see a dangerous glint of red moonlight reflect off the blade as it exited the enemy’s torso. 

She drew her weapon back to her, not bothering to watch the soldier slump to the ground as she took a quick look around her, making sure no others were in sight. Her body was beginning to calm now, her rapid and shallow breathing slowing and deepening as the pulsing in her ears quieted. Once she was positive that they had been all taken care of, she hurried back to the building, remembering her soldiers. 

Praying that she was wrong, and what she suspected and dreaded was not true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than the last few have been-- the pacing would've just been a little weird if I had done anything else, but I'm sure you all understand.
> 
> I'd also just like to mention that everything else that happens in this fic has already been decided. If it seems as if I'm doing certain things to purposefully spite any of you, I'm sorry x'D I love you all very much and you all are so sweet and good to me. 
> 
> Summary: Olivier awakens from her sleep in her adjutant's arms to find that a heavy snow has started; Foster telling her that it blew in very quickly. They decide to stay in their camp in the event of a blizzard-- which does happen, causing them to lose three days and the majority of their food rations. Picking back up on their trail, Olivier informs them all that they must now move quicker and for longer periods of time to make up for the time they lost so they aren't left without any food. Drawing closer to their destination, the Amestrians stumble upon the beginnings of civilization-- including an active Drachman military outpost. Despite moving around it and being wary of its location, the team gets attacked by soldiers upon inspection of an abandoned house. Halifax is shot, yet his fate is uncertain-- and the rest of the soldiers take shelter in the shack as they're shot at. Olivier sneaks out and around behind the attackers, swiftly dispatching them all. She heads back to assess the damage to her troops.


	13. If Only Time was Allowed to Grieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Minor character death  
> I apologize in advance, I love you guys

By the time she returned to where her men had taken cover, her heart sank.

Halifax had been moved-- it was evident by the large trail of blood that stood out against the snow. Even in the darkness of the night, the red was still as powerful as it would have been in the daylight. A warning, a reminder, and an indicator.

Her steps slowed once she saw it, until she stood motionless at the edge of the blood, staring down at it. She was used to seeing death-- everyone was, in the line of work she was in. Yet it was no secret that every life that one of her soldiers lost felt like it was her fault. She could have ordered them differently, called for them to be more defensive. Perhaps she just wasn’t quick enough this time. 

She didn’t need to follow the trail; she knew where it led. Her feet took her to the large opening in the house, where her soldiers stood, heads lowered. Cordova was a few feet away, sitting, trembling.

Olivier didn’t have to ask. She knew, just as they all did. She made her way over to them, as Miller was spreading a blanket over the body. No one said a word. 

One thing Major General Armstrong had learned through her years in the military was how to cope. For the time being, she blocked everything from her mind-- she, as well as her soldiers, would have time to reflect and mourn later.

“We have to keep moving,” she spoke up, her voice quiet for her soldier’s sake. Foster opened his mouth to speak, but Olivier lifted her hand-- the single, small, powerful motion silencing him immediately. “We aren’t leaving him here, but we must move on. If their protocol is anything like ours, they called in reinforcements to this area even before they initiated an attack. There will be more soon, especially with no one here to answer the radio.”

A silent acknowledgement was shared among them all, save for Cordova, who was unresponsive in the corner. Olivier went over to him, “We have to go, Major.”

His head remained lowered, his shoulders shaking violently. The general glanced back at the rest of her soldiers, all who looked distraught and equally empty. She threw the thought around in her mind for a moment before speaking again, “We’ll take five minutes, no more.”

Sikorsky moved over to talk to Cordova while Oshkosh instinctively left to stand outside of the house to keep watch. Foster stared down at the sheet in silence as Miller stood, wobbly from the shock, using Foster’s arm to balance himself. Olivier only just now noticed Miles behind them, alert, but sitting on the ground in an odd way. Immediately wary thanks to the events that just transpired, Olivier’s eyebrows furrowed and she was over next to him in a second.

“You got hit, didn’t you,” Olivier spoke, more of a statement then a question. 

For a moment, he was taken aback by her accusation, though he always knew how observant she was, “It’s not a big deal, I’m fine.”

“Where is it.”

“Just my thigh,” he replied calmly, trying to talk her down, yet obviously to no avail.

The general’s blue eyes immediately fell to her adjutant’s thigh, noticing a splash of blood that would have been difficult for her to spot in the darkness if she hadn’t specifically been searching for it. The wound was on the top, outer side of his thigh-- and while there wasn’t a ton of blood, the blonde knew that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “Roll over, I need to see the back,” she said suddenly. 

Not sure what she was getting at, though ever-obedient, Miles hesitantly did so. He carefully lifted himself out of the snow, obviously favoring his wounded leg. Straightening up, he used the shack wall to steady himself as Olivier examined his backside. 

“There’s no exit wound,” she spoke up, warily.

“Forgive me, General, but there’s no time,” Miles replied quickly. If the bullet was still in his leg, Miller would have to surgically remove it depending on how deeply it was buried inside. 

Olivier hated this. While she despised running away, in this situation, it had to be done. If there were no more soldiers coming to dispose of them, she would’ve been able to allow her soldiers (and herself) time to grieve over their lost comrade, tend to the living’s wounds, and rest-- but she was a good, intelligent commander. Sometimes, decisions like this had to be made, and she knew that’s what Miles was urging her to do. Moments like this made her even more grateful to him; he kept her on her course. 

“Fine. But Miller is looking at that as soon as we reach a point where we can stop,” she sighed through her teeth, immediately at his side. Without even giving him a moment to defend his mobility, she moved under his arm to help steady him; an action that definitely caught him off-guard, judging by the soft noise of surprise he made at the contact. 

“General, I’m--”

“Don’t,” Olivier cut him off. She didn’t mean for it to be as rude as it sounded-- she just couldn’t handle anything else right now. Nothing was going right-- it was the least Miles could do to just let her help him. He knew this deep down, so his protests were silenced. 

They turned back to their soldiers. Miller was steadied now, yet he had a death grip on the fabric of Foster’s arm as he obviously attempted to keep his emotions down. Sikorsky was helping Cordova stand to his feet after having a quiet talk with him, and while the younger soldier was still looking pale in the face, his eerily distant look had subsided. Oshkosh remained outside, watching. 

Olivier cleared her throat, drawing all but her largest soldier's attention, since he was still out front, “Decide amongst yourselves who will help transport the captain.”

“What will we do with him?” Cordova finally spoke, voice soft, as he glanced down at the blanket that covered Halifax.

“There’s nowhere we can give him a proper burial with all of this snow since it is so deep,” Olivier replied. “We burn it.”

Cordova seemed horrified for a moment, before realizing her reasoning and giving his commander a small nod. This outcome seemed to be reasonable to the other men as well, since there were no other objections or strange facial expressions to be seen. 

“I’ll do it,” Oshkosh’s deep voice rumbled quietly as he stepped back inside. Several soldiers gave him a grateful look as he kneeled, picking up their fallen. 

Olivier turned her back to them, Miles still balanced against her, as she spoke, void of emotion.

“Let’s go, then.”

  
  


They continued walking for around an hour, at half the speed that they had been going for the majority of their journey thus far. Olivier knew the morale was low, so she didn’t try to push them-- for now, progressing was less important than finding a safe area to rest, especially after such dire events had transpired. Miles was tiring quickly; he grew heavier and more sluggish as they pressed on, and while Oshkosh was the largest and strongest in their party, she didn’t want him to have to carry Halifax for longer than he had to, even if  just to preserve his mental state. 

She guided them along the edge of the mountain range that ran from the Amestrian border to the center of Drachma. Though it was even more out of the way than she planned their path to be initially, if they had ventured towards the countryside where their end goal was, it would be too out in the open. Not only was it more populated, but less mountains and even less trees and forests rendered the area unsafe for them to travel through while they were in such a state. 

They eventually found a break in the mountains, where a small snow-laden valley had formed. It was surrounded by the towering formations of land that classified the arctic mountain regions that Drachma was so famous for, and after a quick test to determine how much wind was reaching them, Olivier deemed it safe to stop. 

“This will have to do,” she announced down to her soldiers, including Miles, who waited below her in the valley. She had reconnoitred the area, alone, to double-check how safe it was. She also had to make sure that there was enough cover that wind could not get to where they would be starting the fire, for multiple reasons. The fire, if made large enough, would be able to be seen from afar, plus the wind that blew over the mountains had the potential to carry the smoke, even if the flame and light itself were not visible. It, however, seemed fine, as long as she was present to closely monitor everything. 

Every soldier had been equipped with an abundance of fire starting materials, so the birth of the flame was not difficult to achieve. Several of her men stood around the fire and the body, watching in reverent silence as the flame licked the dark sky. Miller was tending to Miles nearby, having finally rolled up the pant leg to his uniform far up enough to reach the wound. Her adjutant was trying to stay as quiet as possible, though his pained grunts as the medic dug around in his thigh for the bullet couldn’t help but send a pang of guilt through her own heart. Miller had already fixed up her hand-- which she had honestly forgotten about until he concernedly pointed out her glove, which was no longer a gray, but a nasty red all the way from the knuckles to the fingertips. He had meticulously picked out each shard of glass from it, despite the annoyed snaps she may have taken at him during the process. She insisted he tend to her adjutant before herself, to which he respectfully replied that Miles was busy fixing his uniform for the medic to get access to the site, so he may as well make himself useful and help her first. This shut the general up momentarily as he finished, wrapping her hand up to cover the knuckles and metacarpals before she pulled her glove back on. 

Sikorsky, while he watched the fire burn, was setting up the radio to inform Briggs of what had happened, at Olivier’s request. The blonde looked down at her wounded hand. In it, she held a necklace that they had found in Halifax’s pocket. He never mentioned it to any of them, but she guessed this was the “good luck” charm she had permitted each of them to take. She set it in her own pocket-- she would give it to his mother when they returned to Amestris.

And, now more than ever, she was determined that they would, over her dead body. 

  
  


She had kept watch in silence as the fire burned, only turning to their site once she noticed the light behind her subsiding. The sky was beginning to brighten; they had lost another day, but this couldn’t have been helped. She turned back to them to see Oshkosh and Sikorsky delicately removing any ashes that remained. Olivier had half a mind to get them back up on their feet so they could get moving again, but she stopped. Each of them wore a similar, emotionally drained expression. Silently, she stepped down from the elevated area she had been watching from. “Set up your tents,” she spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically low, as if she was fighting the solemn thoughts that plagued her. “We’ll rest for a few hours, but we start early this evening. If we travel nonstop, we can reach Belenezh tonight.”

Her soldiers nodded, though once again, Cordova was silent. His head was lowered with his knees drawn up to his chest. She took off her rucksack and retrieved her tent as she eyed him, “Major Cordova, do I have your acknowledgement?”

She knew him and Halifax had been close friends, but she was not expecting his reply.

“I can’t go on any longer,” he replied, his voice quaking. 

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed as she straightened. The air immediately grew tense as her soldiers expected her to take a swing at their youngest comrade, but the general did not move. Instead, she stared at him in deep thought. 

“What did you say?”

“I said,” Cordova hiccuped, fighting tears. “I can’t continue. I don’t want to continue without Aksel. He was my friend.”

Olivier felt five pairs of eyes, all on her, cautiously awaiting her response. 

“I don’t want to either,” she finally said, her tone flat, but loud so that everyone could hear. The strange answer caused Cordova to look up, his eyes puffy and red, cheeks streaked from his tears. 

“There’s no point to crying over what we’ve lost,” the general continued, ice-blue eyes flickering to each of those under her command. “If we all gave up the moment someone we loved died, the world would’ve ceased advancing centuries ago. We fight to keep those we care about alive and well, and if we fail, that just means we have to try harder. Aksel would be embarrassed hearing you say that,” she spoke, her last sentence ending with a bite. 

She turned to speak not only to him, but to all of the men around her. “I’ve been questioned by those I confided this mission to as to why I’m essentially helping Drachma. It’s not the government I care about-- it’s the people in it. It’s the same reason I despised what happened in Ishval-- there is no point to the slaughter of innocent people. It gets a country nowhere, and if we stand idly by and allow atrocities like this to happen, we will all be harmed by the outcome in the long run. The Drachman extremists do not care about the people, only about themselves-- and what kind of leading power would Amestris be if we didn’t at least try to keep innocent people from dying?”

She turned and looked directly back at Cordova, their eyes meeting, “The only failure is the lack of action. Beyond that, life and death is out of our control. Not only is survival of the fittest existential in the way of physical prowess, but it is emotionally and socially as well. If you give up, you are weak. Countries and governments that only help themselves rarely succeed in the long run-- especially if they have no one they can call allies. It is the same for people. Only the strongest survive, but sometimes that strength lies below the surface, and in those you surround yourself with. So don’t any of you  _ dare _ give up on this.”

With that, she turned on her heels and went to set up her tent. Behind her, her soldiers looked at one another, astounded, while Miles just watched her in silence, the smallest hint of a fond smile on his face. 

  
  
  


Eventually, all of the tents were set up; all of the soldiers filing inside their respective makeshift shelters to rest for a short while. Miles had set up inside of his and Olivier’s, waiting for her to return. She had stepped out for a few minutes to make their meals, and she finally returned with only his ready. 

His eyebrows furrowed, meeting her gaze as she entered. Without a word, as if nothing were amiss, she set it in front of him. “Olivier,” he spoke up, though she didn’t look at him. The blonde simply hummed an acknowledgement. “Did you not make one for yourself?”

“Not hungry,” she replied, quieter than usual. She sat down near him, off to the side, and began to remove her glove. He finally got a good glimpse of the bandages Miller had wrapped around her hand. 

“You need to eat,” he sighed, watching her. Her gaze was lowered, her light blue eyes dulled. 

“I’m not hungry.”

He wanted to argue, but he instead remained silent for a few minutes. He, on the other hand, was starving, so he began eating his MRE, still watching her. He noticed her reach into her pocket and take out Halifax’s necklace, her eyes scanning it sullenly. 

“You’ll have time to grieve later, sir,” he attempted to comfort her. “It’s like you said, survival is what’s most important right now. Besides, I thought your little pep-talk out there was just what all of the men needed to hear. It gave them hope again.”

“Hope is pointless in times like this,” Olivier replied, rather quickly, surprising Miles slightly. “Hope alone doesn’t make change, people taking action does.”

“Maybe you should lead our country after all,” Miles offered, trying to subtly derail the subject. “You’ve always been the best at motivational speeches.” 

This earned a sour, short chuckle from the woman, which involuntarily brought a frown to the major’s face, “What? Maybe under you we’d finally see the end of all of these border wars with Drachma, Aerugo, and Creta that have been going on for years.”

“Only the dead see the end of war, Miles.”

Her reply caused his retort to get caught in his throat. 

“All we can do is see that not as many people get hurt by it.”

“Why are you suddenly being so negative?” He asked, without even meaning to. The sudden accusation caused the blonde’s gaze to snap towards him, an instant feeling of regret causing a pit to form in his stomach. 

“I’m negative because I’m done with seeing people under my command die from things I’ve done wrong.”

The regret was instantaneously replaced with sympathy, “Olivier, none of this was your fault.”

“Buccaneer was my fault.”

That was the first time Miles ever heard his commander’s voice break. His eyes met hers, and the normally confident, powerful icy blue was a broken gray in the darkness of their tent. “Olivier, you know that’s not true.”

“I commanded our soldiers to attack Central Command. Buccaneer and many foot soldiers died. Once again, I go behind the Fuhrer’s council and take matters into my own hands to infiltrate Drachma, and Halifax dies. It is  _ always  _ my fault, Miles.”

His heart broke as he saw the gray shine, as if tears were forming in her eyes. He felt as if the sight of it and the tone of her voice alone were enough to move  _ him _ to tears. “Please, General. Do you know how many lives you’ve saved and how many you’re  _ going _ to save with these plans of yours? If Briggs hadn’t attacked Central, the Promised Day would’ve succeeded. All of Amestris would be gone. And now, in reinstating the old regime in Drachma, both Drachma and Amestris  _ again _ will be safe.”

This seemed to quell her uncertainty for a moment, and Miles thought he had succeeded in calming her, until she spoke up again.

“I could have lost you too.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he replied truthfully after a moment of contemplation, “My life doesn’t hold more worth than anyone else’s, Olivier, we’re all soldiers and we all have the same chance of losing our lives in battle.”

Her voice and gaze both lowered as she responded, equally truthful.

“Your life holds the  _ most _ worth to me.”

He wanted to say something, but the sentence would not form properly on his tongue. There were certain words he wished to use, such as  _ love _ , and  _ loyal _ , and  _ forever _ , though they would not present themselves. He could only watch as his commander retrieved a new bandage and stood, wrapping her hand as she headed for the opening to the tent. 

“Where are you going?” He finally managed.

“To keep watch,” she replied. “Get some rest, I won’t be waking you up to take over. God knows I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight anyway if I tried.”

With that, she left their tent, leaving Miles feeling more empty than he ever had before. 

  
  


Olivier gave them about six hours of rest before waking them. She gave those who wanted to eat a few minutes for them to do so, while others who were still full from before packed up their camp. She made sure everyone was well enough to travel before they began their journey, even going as far as to make sure Miles could walk and even run without assistance. 

“How’s it feeling?” She questioned as he walked behind her. 

“A little sore,” he replied, glancing up at her. She wasn’t looking back at him; her eyes were trained on the snow that lay ahead of them. “But it’s doable.”

“Good,” the general replied, finally turning to look over her shoulder since the next soldier she was to address was farther back and may have not been able to hear her otherwise. “Sikorsky, did you get a hold of Briggs this morning?”

“That I did, sir,” he responded from about ten feet behind her. “Took a little bit for the reception to get good enough for them to hear me, but I managed to inform them about what happened. They said they would call Halifax’s mother, but the feedback got too bad for me to tell them anything else.”

“That’s alright,” Olivier said before turning back around. Her and Miles hadn’t spoken any more after their conversation last night, but she wasn’t trying to dwell on what she had said to him. It would only cloud her thoughts, and she needed to be giving her one-hundred percent right now. 

They walked for several hours. Olivier could hear the men behind her talking to one another quietly, and while she couldn’t make any of it out, she could tell it was just calm conversation. Miles remained silent as he walked behind her, to her right, as he had always done. They passed what looked like several towns on the horizon, and while at some times they could make out what looked like government facilities and outposts, they never drew anywhere near to them-- every time one was spotted, they made sure to go out of their way to change their trajectory and avoid it as cleanly as possible. Eventually, as they made their way farther into the country, more of the rural countryside became clearer-- the lands were lower here, so the snow slowly began to fade to dead, and eventually, living grass, though the air was still sharp with cold. 

Olivier paused suddenly, the sound of her feet crunching leaves in the grass ceasing, causing her soldiers to look up at her. Without a word, she produced her binoculars from her pocket, lifting them to her face. 

“That’s Belenezh,” she said, lowering her binoculars, extending them out to her side to offer them to her adjutant. He stepped forward and carefully took them from her, lifting them to his face as well. “Do you see the water tower with the lynx painted on it?”

Miles nodded as Olivier continued, “Ivanov told me that’s the landmark to look for. There’s a few hills nearby, and on one of them is a small house, he said. That’s where we should find them.”

“Do you want to go ahead and go for it?” He asked, handing the field glasses back to her. The blonde nodded and turned back to the soldiers behind them, “Stick as close to me as possible. There’s not a lot of cover, so we’ll have to be clever about this.”

Each gave her an acknowledgement of “yes, sir” before she continued on toward the town. “What’s the plan?” Miles asked her quietly, quickening his steps so he walked directly beside her. 

“We’re going to try and avoid the town itself, I can’t tell if anyone is out and about working on farms yet, but if they are, we just avoid the large fields. Use the hillside as some form of cover.”

It was risky, but there wasn’t much else they could do. Thankfully, the dark winter sky still helped to conceal their presence in the arctic camo slightly-- if it were one of the warmer seasons with a blue sky and bright colors, they would look sorely out of place, and would be much more easily recognized. 

They were able to navigate around most of the town successfully. There weren’t too many houses or buildings, but those that were present were small, and facing each other on a single, main street. From what Olivier could tell, the street was what connected it to the other nearby towns (though, nearby may have not been an accurate word-- they were still very far apart) and the hills beyond the city hub. Several Drachmans were out, as well, but they were minding their own business. A few stood in fields with their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, hard at work, while small families would be heading into town with their young children to shop. While not fully able to empathize with them, Olivier knew this type of town. Many small, rural areas like this one existed all over Drachma, where farmers were severely underpaid and many families lived modest, unassuming lives. Thankfully, she noted, it didn’t seem as if farmers had chosen to burn their own farms yet, like she had heard many of them doing in order to avoid the military taking the food they produced many years prior. They had stopped many of these poor practices under the old regime, but she remembered that during one of their conversations while he was still stationed in the northern country, Ivanov had described that the rebels were now repeating some of the things that older monarchs had done-- one of them being the mandatory collectivization of agriculture that the peasants so deeply loathed.

Before long, they spotted what looked like a chimney rising up from behind one of these aforementioned hills. 

“There,” Olivier spoke softly. All of her soldiers had obeyed her earlier order and were all huddled very close to her as they took cover behind some bushes, since they were near the main road. “None of you see any other houses on those hills, right?”

“Looks like that’s the only one,” Miles confirmed. 

“Guess that’s where we’re headed, then,” Olivier sighed, straightening. She swiftly crossed the street, drawing her pistol just in case. At the sight of this, her men trailed after her, drawing their own weapons in suit. 

They soon reached the edge of the small house, where Olivier silently gave them all a hand signal to hide at the sides of the building. It remained unspoken, but they all knew what this was for-- just in case Drachman soldiers had reached the house before them, or the inhabitants were hostile, the Briggs men would be able to flank them from both sides in the case of an attempt on Olivier’s life. 

She watched them take their positions for a moment, guns ready, before she sighed softly. Miles watched her from one edge of the house, deeply afraid. He could tell she wasn’t nervous, just prepared-- though _ he  _ was terrified for her. He absolutely hated how she put herself in situations like this, where something so calm could become so dangerous and deadly so quickly. 

She glanced at him one last time, their blue and red eyes meeting, before she raised her good hand and knocked on the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I mentioned in the last chapter that everything in this fic had been decided the moment I made and introduced the OCs, right? I'm sorry that Halifax was the favorite OC of a lot of you :') I didn't do it to spite anyone, I promise.  
> Thank you all very much for your continued support, and please don't hesitate to leave a comment or kudos if you have not already! Also, my friend Word-spielen [wordspielen on ao3] made a fan tumblr for both Halifax and TNT in general if any of you are interested! It's akselhalifaxprotectionsquad, haha <3


	14. Endless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning -- Minor character death and canon-typical graphic violence. Another summary will be in the footnotes if you don't want to read that kind of stuff.

The door opened but a crack, revealing darkness within-- the only visible shape being the shine of a timid eye peering back at the general. As if sensing their apprehension at the sight of her uniform, Olivier raised her hands to show them that they were empty and, while her sword and pistol rest at her hips, she had nothing in her immediate grasp.

The door opened further, slowly, in response, but a trembling hand soon produced a pistol in the dark of the small house. The blonde remained motionless, palms still shown to the stranger, despite several of her soldiers flinching for their own weapons once they saw the one directed point-blank at their commander. A single sharp glance of her blue eyes stopped them in their metaphorical tracks, however.

“Alexei Kozhurov,” Olivier began, voice low and calm. The man in the darkness started at the mention of his name, urging the pistol forward. The Amestrian general simply blinked coolly.

“Who… Who are you?” His voice creeped forth, obviously terrified beyond measure, accent heavy. “How do you know my--”

Olivier forced back a sigh, “Major General Olivier Armstrong from Amestris’s Fort Briggs. We’re here to help you. Put the gun down, we don’t have much time.”

Alexei hesitated, his gaze slowly moving down to rest on the pistol that quaked in his grip. While the general air around him seemed to calm slightly, his weapon remained pointed at the one foreign to him. Almost silently, another figure seemed to glide up to them from the darkness, setting a small hand on her husband’s arm. “Alexei?” She questioned carefully, her eyes locked on Olivier cautiously, studying her for a brief moment.

“We’re not here to harm you,” Olivier continued. “We know you’re in hiding, there’s soldiers not too far from here, and there are many armed outposts with guard patrolling constantly. You’ll be found soon, I assure you.”

“We don’t know if you can be trusted!” Alexei snapped back suddenly, out of pure fear. “Taking us prisoner won’t work for blackmail, the new government wants us just as dead as you do!”

Olivier frowned, causing the man to cower slightly, though his wife remained steadfast. She spoke up to him in soft Drachman, “[Alexei, this is the general of Briggs. She would’ve killed you by now if she wanted to.]”

“[Yes, but, Valera,]” Alexei addressed her, looking back and forth rapidly from each woman. “[She could take us back to her fortress to torture us for information.]”

Blue eyes rolled in annoyance at the Drachman man. She could understand his wariness, but Olivier’s patience was already thinner than usual, she didn’t need their uncooperative attitudes on top of the looming threat of Drachman soldiers. Silently, she reached into her pocket and retrieved a picture of Karelia.

Miles’s heart leaped; he had no idea that she had brought such an item with her.

Valera saw the picture first, her eyes widening in the low light as she shook Alexei’s arm to get his attention. When he saw it, he immediately lifted the pistol to the general’s head once again, raising his voice in her language, “Why are you holding her hostage?”

“[We’re not,]” Olivier’s eyes narrowed, surprising the pair with her Drachman. “[The Czar and his wife were crossing the border with her. All we saw was figures in the dark, so we took them out for the own safety of our fort. We were just following protocol.]”

Eyes still wide and shiny with oncoming tears, Valera gingerly reached for the photo, which Olivier silently obliged in handing off to her.  

“[Karelia is safe and happy in our fort, however. We wish to escort you back to Briggs, where you will be kept safe, so that we may reinstate your kin in the Drachman monarchy.]”

Alexei noticed how his wife clung to the photo, and his pistol finally lowered, earning a collective exhale of relief from all of Olivier’s soldiers.

“Alexei,” she sniffled, shakily speaking up in Amestrian. “Look, she’s alive..”

Her husband eyed the photo for a moment before glancing back up at Olivier, whose emotions never wavered from the dangerous and serious calm that she had first greeted them with. It took him a long moment before he gently took Valera by the arms, looking into her eyes, “[Zolotse, pack our things. Quickly.]”

She nodded and hurried off with the picture as Alexei turned back to the blonde, “I apologize. We have to be very careful now.”

“I understand,” Olivier replied. “I’ll elaborate everything to you once we’re moving.” She raised a hand and motioned her soldiers to rise, and knowing the circumstances, they all did so, being as slow and unthreatening as possible. This worked, since when Alexei spotted them, he was not alarmed.

Valera soon emerged from the darkness with a few small bags, handing one off to the other Drachman. Wordlessly, Olivier turned on her heels and started back the way she and her soldiers had initially snuck from. Her soldiers followed obediently, used to this behavior, though it took the Drachmans a moment to understand that her motion was a silent rally to get moving.

 

It did not take long for them to gain back the distance they had travelled after Halifax’s death. Travelling for only a few hours at most, they moved quicker, since they knew what lay ahead of them as they doubled back on their path. Olivier, pleased with this speed, definitely wanted to keep it up-- especially given that, now, there were only five MREs to share between the nine of them, including their new travelling companions.

“Major General?” Valera, surprisingly, spoke up after a while. Alexei had remained in a nervous silence for the majority of their trek, but it was the small Drachman woman who had made several attempts to speak to Olivier on multiple occasions. Miles, who, as usual, had been travelling near his general, smiled gently at the thought. It seemed as if the dark-haired woman had taken a quick liking to the Armstrong, since at one time he heard her excitedly asking Olivier in hushed tones about how she managed to not only join the military, but ascend the ranks so quickly.

She probably believed Olivier was younger than what she really was, Miles imagined. The blonde _was_ rather young-looking, despite pushing thirty-six. People had always been astounded to hear that she was not only Alex’s _older_ sister, but that they had two siblings between them, and each of the Armstrong children were a year apart up until their mother had given birth to Catherine, who was currently only twenty-two.

What Miles also knew, however, was that despite Olivier always paying no mind to the questions she had been asked involving her gender in her line of work, her journey was much more difficult than she would ever admit to anyone. Though she had never told him her full story (she was rather unforthcoming about it, and the last thing he wanted to do was to pry), he had collected pieces of it from what she occasionally let slip. She had disclosed what her life was like up to and after the academy, but not the specifics of it-- the discrimination and inequity. There were few women who had been in the military as long as her, and while he was grateful to say that that changed quickly and there were now many more serving alongside her, he also knew how few female _commanding officers_ there were, even now. She was the highest-ranked woman in the military, and he knew that on the other side of the iron wall she had built around herself so many years ago, there were the quiet remnants of sadness and utter alienation.

It was one of the many things he loved about her. While not entirely in the same vein as what she experienced personally, the major knew far too well what it was like to feel unwanted and estranged. Yet, instead of giving up, she pushed forward with resolve so strong, Miles regret that he hadn’t been around to witness it.

“What is the plan for once we get to Amestris?” Valera questioned politely, speeding up slightly to meet Olivier’s stride. Her Amestrian was not nearly as polished as Alexei’s was, yet she was still able to be clearly understood.

“I imagine the Drachman soldiers will want to attack as soon as they find out what happened,” The blonde began, sighing to herself before continuing. “Though they probably already do.”

She had mentioned the loss of the captain to the couple, to which, even just judging by the looks on their face, they had silently shared a remorseful glance to one another.

“Either way,” Olivier drew her pistol at first sight of the dreaded outpost they had crossed before. “Central Command doesn’t know we did this, so first we’ll have to inform them of what we did. Then, barring everything goes well with that-- and it will, or else-- we’ll all go down to Central where I can meet with the Fuhrer’s Cabinet and you two can be kept in asylum for a little while with Karelia. The three of you will be safer in the middle of the country rather than the border.”

“Why did you not tell your Central Command?” The Drachman piped up, her tone completely innocent and questioning.

“If I had told them and they denied my request to engage,” Olivier responded, faltering a moment as her foot sank deeply into the snow, causing her to pause suspiciously. “.... They would’ve sent someone up to keep an eye on me to make sure I didn’t do anything rash. They’ve done it before.”

“When? What did you ask?”

“Oh, I didn’t ask that time,” The blond glanced back at the other woman. “I essentially ordered my soldiers to fight Central soldiers and I basically committed treason on more than one occasion.”

“And that was only in the past year,” Miles added with a small smile. He knew she was talking about the Promised Day.

Olivier’s blue eyes met his, and he knew she didn’t mind his addition. He was also rather surprised that she didn’t mind the many questions coming from Valera, either.  

The small Drachman’s eyes widened in awe, though Olivier had already turned her gaze back to the outpost ahead.

“Miles.”

“Yes, sir?” He replied, immediately closer.

“We won’t have enough food to make it back if we go at the same pace we had been before,” she said suddenly, her voice lowered as her irises flickered up to him.

“What shall we do?”

He noticed her eye the outpost.

“They should have some trucks there, don’t you think?”

“Olivier,” Miles said suspiciously, knowing she had an idea-- and knowing her, it was a dangerous one.

“We don’t have a chance of making it back to Amestris with enough food, Major. We won’t even have enough for everyone _tonight_ . We have to try and find a quicker way back,” Olivier responded, signaling for the soldiers to follow her more closely. “Do you have any better ideas?”  
Her adjutant sighed, “No, General. I trust you.”

Her expression wavered for a moment. One of the most terrifying things in the world to her was having so many men trust her so deeply with her lives, yet the decisions she was often forced to make were always so harrowing, and laced with deadly consequences. This was most likely why she blamed herself for things that always seemed to happen-- even if they were immensely out of her control, and she was aware of that.

“We’re going to steal a truck,” she stated aloud to all those following her. “It would take too long to avoid this outpost, and we have to head straight for the border from here. I’m sure you all know, but we don’t have enough food for all of us tonight, so we need to get to Briggs as soon as humanly possible.”

Initially, her men and the Drachmans just stared at her in shock before calming as the general explained herself. One advantage Olivier had always held over her peers of the same rank was her ability to give reason to every single thing she did and every decision she made, Miles often noted.

 

Silently, the group crept on, but the major couldn’t help but notice the expression on his commander’s face, “General?”

“Something isn’t right,” she spoke lowly to him. “Do you feel it too?”

Miles focused on his surroundings for a moment, and slowly a sense of dread came to him, “Yes, sir.”

“Maybe we should turn around,” the general spoke up, her tone laced with concern. “But we still can’t afford to waste any time…”  

Miles opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by an ear-splitting explosion that boomed from close behind them with no warning.

The two of them spun around to see snow and debris falling from the force of the blast. The two Drachmans who stood near them watched in horror along with the Amestrian soldiers, save for Foster and Miller, who had been at the back of the group.

Miller was screaming bloody murder, clawing at his leg as Foster, silent from the shock, crouched to tend to him. In an instant, everyone was around them.

“ _What_ **_happened_ **?!” Olivier yelled angrily; her fury not directed at her soldiers, but whatever force had just attacked them. Her blue gaze immediately fell onto what Miller was fruitlessly grabbing at as shrieks of pain tore from his throat-- his right leg was absolutely torn to shreds. It hadn’t been blown off, but the lower leg of his uniform and the entire bottom half of his coat were completely gone, revealing huge gashes taken out of his flesh, a sticky and deep red pooling below and around him.

Foster was already crying uncontrollably; something none of the Amestrians had ever witnessed him do. He was trying to talk to his partner in between hard sobs; trying to caress his face with violently shaking hands, “Lewis! Lewis! Please, god, stay with me, Lewis--”

Olivier shoved several soldiers out of the way and yelled a voice full of pure fire at them over her shoulder, “ _Back off_ , give us some room and look around for any shooters!”

Immediately, they all began drawing their weapons, and instinctively, Alexei drew his as well. Miles fell in beside Olivier, ready to assist if another pair of hands were needed.

Olivier lowered her voice just like she had always done in situations such as this one, “What do we need to do, Miller?”

Miller, who was doing his best not to cry in pain, drew in a fragmented inhale as he tried to catch his breath, “I-i-it was a-- _annnhh_ ,” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, though his head was held steady thanks to Foster’s hands. “Landmine…”

“Fucking _god damn it,_ ” Olivier hissed through her teeth, shooting a sharp glance back at the outpost-- they must have already sent more soldiers to it, and they littered the snow around them with landmines just in case the Amestrian soldiers travelled back the way they came.

“General, you have to go on without me,” Miller choked out as he weakly detached their first-aid kit from his rucksack.

Olivier was about to speak, though Miles spoke for her, “You know we aren’t going to leave you, Lewis. If we wouldn't leave a body, what makes you think we’d leave a living soldier?” He took the kit from the medic, opening it quickly.

The general was silently thankful that her adjutant knew her so well. She made eye contact with the captain and repeated what she had asked earlier. While she and all of her soldiers knew basic first aid, she wasn’t sure if this particular instance required anything specific, “What do we need to do?”

“It’s dirty,” Miller gasped, still squeezing his eyes shut. “Do we have any water left?”

Olivier immediately nodded, reaching into her rucksack and producing her own supply of water without a second thought. She unscrewed the lid and gently began pouring water over the gashes.

Nearby, they heard gunshots.

“General, please, just--”

“We take you with us, or we die with you,” Olivier said lowly, genuinely. “Now what do I do?”

Miller was silent for a moment before sighing, accepting that there was no way he would get his comrades to leave for their own safety. He opened his eyes and made eye contact with her before looking down at the wounds, “There’s bone exposed, but we can’t do much about that right now, so just try and stop the bleeding and immobilize it...”

Olivier nodded curtly, and in an instant, Miles was handing her sanitized bandages and the makings of a splint. Swiftly, she wrapped the wound as tightly as she could, adding the splint in order to keep anything from moving any further. As she wrapped it, she addressed the injured’s partner, “Foster, can you carry him?”

“Yes, sir,” He replied without even having to debate on his answer.

“Good, do so and stay behind us,” the general said, straightening up. “Because it sounds like we’ve got some company.”

Ahead of them, the remaining soldiers could be seen taking shots off in the direction of the outpost. Foster lifted Miller into his arms as Olivier and Miles ran to join the other Amestrians.

“Northrop,” Miller spoke up softly, earning an acknowledging glance from the lieutenant colonel, whose eyes were still reddened with tears. “Whatever happens, I love you.”

Foster smiled fondly down at him, replying with a gentleness that reflected the captain’s, “I know, and I love you too.”

 

“Are they coming from the outpost?” Olivier called up to her soldiers as she hurried to them, nearly tripping when her boot sank into a large pile of snow.

“Yes, General,” Sikorsky replied, his body flinching slightly at the shoulder due to the kickback of his rifle as he took a shot. “They’ve got a few men coming down, but they’ve got a sniper up top, too.”

The blonde growled to herself, “That sniper will pick us off one by one if we keep sitting here.” She raised her voice, commanding all her men-- “Press forward! Our main target is those transport trucks inside that gated area!”

As her soldiers ran ahead and Valera fell back to help Foster, Olivier fell to her knees as she flung her rucksack off her shoulder, unsnapping all of the buckles on it. Due to the lack of MREs, it did not take her long to locate and retrieve the explosives case. Looping the handle over her arm so she could have it ready if the need arose, she pulled the rucksack back onto her shoulders as she straightened.

“General,” Miles drew her attention as he appeared behind her, holding out a rifle for her, “Miller wanted you to take his mosin-nagant, he still has his pistol and the lieutenant colonel still has his own rifle, so they’ll be fine.”

Olivier barely ever used rifles, which was shy she didn’t pack her own, but she took it, knowing it would be beneficial to have one in such a situation. Quickly, her and her adjutant ran ahead to be with their soldiers as several Drachmans appeared through the snow. Immediately, one fell, and Olivier glanced over to realize that it was Alexei, who was now holding a rifle (Cordova had given his to him, by the looks of it, since the young soldier had also gone to try and help defend Miller in the back), who had dealt the killing blow. The blonde glanced at her Ishvalan adjutant, who made eye contact with his commander.

“Guess we don’t have to worry about him turning on us,” Olivier said sarcastically, earning a small smile from the major as the general lifted the rifle to her shoulder and took a shot.

Slowly, the Amestrian soldiers pushed forward, the Drachman boots on the ground falling one after another, until whatever enemies that remained at the highest point of the outpost tower were the only survivors. The party reached the large, military-grade fences that housed the transport trucks-- there were three of them in total, with one sitting slightly higher than the rest due to the two-and-a-half-foot-tall snow tracks that had replaced the wheels. The soldiers grouped around the gate, ducking whenever a sniper shot would send up a small kick of snow near them.

The major general took to the front of the group, cursing loudly when she saw the large lock on the gate. Without a thought, she lifted the rifle and took a shot at it, though the bullet just weakly ricocheted off the steel.

“Move back,” she snarled a command to them all. “And which one of you has the best arm? I’m getting fucking tired of that sniper.”

For whatever reason unknown to Olivier, all of the soldiers present pointed a finger at Oshkosh simultaneously.

She turned and handed him a grenade, “Try and toss that up to the open part of the tower. Overshoot if you have to, just don’t undershoot, because then it’ll fall back to us and we’ll be history.”

He gave her a nod and pulled the pin as Olivier waved for the other soldiers to clear away from the gates. After waiting a brief moment for the grenade, the major reared back and swung his arm with an extreme and unrivaled force; flinging the live grenade. Miraculously, his judgement of the timing was perfect, and though he missed the actual opening to the tower, the explosive went off in mid-air next to it, sending shards of debris in all directions.

As the remnants of the grenade fell to the snow around them, Olivier retrieved a second and pulled the pin, balancing it between the edge of the lock and the fence itself. Swiftly, she trot away from it to join her soldiers a safe distance away before it exploded, tearing off the lock and a chunk from the gate.

“Hurry!” Olivier yelled, urging them forward. She went and stood by the gate, watching her men and their two Drachman companions file hastily inside, making sure everyone made it in the gated area before she entered. “Get Miller flat in the back, and elevate his leg!”

The glint of metal on the hip of a writhing Drachman soldier caught her eye, and she padded over to him in the snow. Just as she thought-- at his hip jingled a set of shiny keys. She kneeled, tearing them off his belt with a rudely spat, “Thank you.”

Hurrying inside the gates, she saw her soldiers attempting to pry a lock off the back of the truck-- the one in the middle that had the snow tracks. Miles saw his general enter the gates, and she immediately set the keys roughly in his hand once she caught up to him.

“Try all of these, I don’t know which one is to the truck.”

He nodded dutifully, smashing the window to the truck with the butt of his rifle and unlocking it from the inside before opening the door and entering the vehicle.

A bullet ricocheted off of the steel shell of the truck, grazing Olivier’s side. Once again too high on adrenaline to pay any mind to the pain, she swung around to see another full patrol of Drachman soldiers advancing on them.

“Shit,” She breathed to herself, quickly glancing around to get a head count of all of her soldiers. Frantic now, Oshkosh, Cordova, and Foster were all trying to pry the doors open, with Valera having dragged Miller to the other side of the vehicle to hide. Sikorsky and Alexei noticed the enemy soldiers just as the major general had, so they quickly got up to regroup with her.

“You two, fall in with me,” She called to them. “We need to hold them off while Miles starts the truck and the others get the doors open!”

Nodding in unison, the two men flanked her after Sikorsky ditched the heavy and cumbersome communications equipment he had been carrying, allowing his comrades to load it up into the truck once they would hopefully get it open.

The three continued taking shots at the enemy, until Alexei’s rifle ceased; only making empty clicks. He cursed in Drachman before crouching to avoid the spray of enemy fire as he made his way over to the back of the truck, where Cordova still had the ammunition that was needed to reload his rifle, since Olivier did not have any and Sikorsky had left his with the radio. The soldiers advanced, vastly outnumbering the two remaining Amestrians who were trying their best to return fire.

Olivier shot her rifle again, taking out a Drachman soldier just as a sharp pain burst through her shoulder. She had been shot before, so this pain was not new-- but that did not make it any less painful. It felt like searing, cutting fire as the bullet pierced her uniform and buried itself in her muscle, but she could not stop now. She worked her jaw, grinding her teeth in pain and attempting to steady herself for another shot, when Sikorsky suddenly stood.

“General?”

“What, Major?” She asked impatiently; this was not a prime moment for conversation.

“Thank you for being the best commander a soldier could ask for.”

She looked up at him, ready to give him a look of confusion, as he snatched the explosives case from her. She reached out a hand to stop him, to which he only shoved the case back to her-- but not after retrieving the large shell of phosgene that had been taking up the most space in the bag.

“Sikorsky!” She yelled angrily at him as he ran from her, catching the other Amestrian soldier’s attentions.

Surprised and confused by the man now running towards them, several of the Drachmans stumbled backwards in fear that he had explosives. Insead, the major ran near them, forcefully planted the shell in the snow, drew his pistol, and shot it.

Instead of the boom of an explosive, the loud and violent hiss of gas being released into the hair startled everyone who heard it. Though it was colorless, flurries of snow were being blown from the force of the substance, and as a result, Sikorsky was able to determine the exact direction the air was travelling-- downhill and downwind of the gated area of the outpost, where the enemy soldiers were now standing, confused as to what he just did.

They had no idea the gas was heavier than air, so it was already taking hold of them.

Olivier felt the truck jolt to life behind her as Miles found the correct key, just as a loud bang of metal echoed off the back of it, signaling the success of her soldiers in getting the back doors open. She heard them yelling hurriedly to each other as they gathered Miller and helped him inside.

“Sikorsky!” The blonde called out again, standing and wobbling for just a moment due to the pained and dizzying shocks that travelled from her shoulder, straight up her neck to her brain, and down to her fingertips. Though farther off now, the Drachman soldiers were coughing wildly already, many of them falling to their knees and clutching at their throats and chests.

She took a step towards her soldier, who quickly held up a hand. At around thirty feet away, Olivier could hear the condemning sound of a cough flinching forth from his chest as well.

She caught a whiff of musty hay on the wind, and quickly pulled up the front of her uniform to serve as a face mask.

The major took a few steps back towards her before he had to double over and wheeze. “Roth, get over here, quickly!” Olivier yelled. It was very rare for her to address her soldiers by their first names-- except in dire situations, like this one.

He trotted a bit closer to her before flashing her a smile, a rumble rising from his throat and sending him into wild coughing as he caught up to her, “It’s too late, General, I’m sorry.”

“You had better shut the fuck up,” she spat, grabbing for his arms to balance him as she saw his legs give out. “You had better stay with us. I can’t lose another one.”

His smile never faded, “They would’ve advanced on us, sir. I only did what had to be done.”

“You know there’s no heroes in war, Major,” Olivier replied, eyebrows furrowing out of concern. “Oshkosh!” She lifted her head and called to her largest soldier, who quickly poked his head out from the back of the truck. “Get over here and help me get him inside!”

"You're the only hero us soldiers need, sir."

His quiet words sent a pain through Olivier's chest. She knew her soldiers depended on her, but she never really thought about the true, deep impact she had on them all. 

As quickly as a man of his size could, Oshkosh hurried over and lifted Sikorsky, who was now beginning to go limp and gasp for breath. Olivier quickly followed, hopping inside the back of the truck and doing a head count once again. Everyone was accounted for, as well as all of their equipment-- Miller had been laid out at the front of the area, where his wrapped leg was now elevated, Foster watching him closely. Since there was no other good place to set him, Oshkosh laid Sikorsky out on the floor of the truck, just so he could be flat as well.

“Major,” Olivier said down to him as Cordova closed the door, just trying to keep him awake. She flashed a look up to Foster, who by some miracle, knew what her look meant-- so he opened the window that led to the front of the truck, where Miles sat. He said something to her adjutant-- she couldn’t exactly tell what, since she was focused on the soldier below her-- but nonetheless, they all felt the truck lurch forward as it started and its speed immediately pick up as Miles slammed on the gas.

“Stay with us, Major,” The blonde said, very gently slapping Sikorsky’s cheek as his eyes began to darken and flutter shut. “You deserve better than this.”

He smiled once again, albeit weakly, as he opened his eyes and looked at each of the soldiers who crowded around them. His brown eyes made contact with the bright, icy blue of Olivier’s.

“There are two things in my life… That have been the biggest honor for me to do, General… One was marrying my wife and being the father to three wonderful children, and--” he coughed violently, the shock causing his body to seize slightly as it came to pass. “Serving the Amestrian military, under your command at Briggs.”

For the first time in many years, Olivier felt her eyes sting at the threat of encroaching tears.

His body shook as it was wracked with another wheezing, coughing fit.

“My children are grown with families of their own now,” He sighed shakily, stifling another cough as his eyes closed.

He smiled one final time, “I’ll finally get to see my Maja again.”

His breathing slowed to nothing, and all was silent, save for the thudding of the truck as it ascended small hills of snow.

A few minutes passed, until Olivier let her rucksack slide off her shoulders before she carefully removed the blanket Miles had forced her to keep several nights ago. Wordlessly, she draped it over Sikorsky’s body, and after a moment, she finally mustered up some words, her voice solemn and quiet, “If anyone else knows how to use the radio, call Briggs. Tell them we’ll be arriving in a Drachman transport truck.”

Cordova, surprisingly, out of the lot of them, stood silently and made his way over to the abandoned radio and began messing with it.

There were a few boxes in the back of the truck, and after confirming it was simply supplies and nothing volatile like explosives, Olivier moved one over and took a seat on it. She silently clutched her shoulder, which now burned with a dull pain, in a halfhearted attempt to stop the bleeding. It was only after a moment that she felt eyes on her, and when she looked up, she saw that everyone in the truck was watching her; waiting for a command, or a plan, or anything.

She just shook her head, a few long curls falling in front of her face as she looked down at her muddy and snowy shoes.

“We’re going home.”  

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :') don't hate me, I love you all  
> And thus ends the Drachman Infiltration, but no worries, the fic isn't near over yet. I appreciate all of you who have stuck around this far, and I have some exciting news-- fluff is inbound owo
> 
> Also, landmines weren't really used until the 1950s I think, and phosgene doesn't actually work that fast. But oh well alchemy and faux immortality exist in this world so lmao 
> 
> Summary: Olivier and her soldiers have arrived in Belenezh, and upon finding Karealia's uncle and aunt, Alexei and Valera Kozhurov, they are able to successfully convince the Drachmans to travel back to Amestris for their own safety. Despite travelling slightly quicker back than the trip there, the crew realizes they will not have enough food to last them the night. Desperate for a quicker way back to the border, the Amestrians find themselves near the same outpost where Halifax was killed, and upon closer inspection, they notice a fenced area with several transport trucks-- big and quick enough to take all of them back to Briggs. As they draw closer to the outpost, the Briggs men realize in horror that Drachman soldiers have overtaken the military facility once again, and as a precaution just in case the Amestrians travelled back the same way, they have laid out landmines-- which they only discover once the field medic Miller detonates one, sustaining severe injuries to his leg. Shortly after, since they heard the explosion, Drachman troops from the lookout come down and attack the Briggs soldiers, yet they are quickly taken out by the skilled men under Olivier's command. They reach the fence, and once they blow the lock off with a grenade, they hurry inside to start up a truck. The Drachman soldiers, however, were not caught unprepared, and they had called in reinforcements before being killed by the Amestrians. As a result, more Drachmans attack, wounding Olivier and cornering the party. As all hope seems lost, Major Sikorsky grabs the phosgene shell from Olivier and runs towards the attackers, shooting it with his pistol to detonate it. The gas quickly overpowers the advancing enemy, yet it reaches Sikorsky as well, and even though the truck gets started and Olivier pulls him inside with the help of Oshkosh, it is already too late-- as Sikorsky dies in the back of the truck with his loyal comrades nearby, they start their long journey back home.


	15. Home (With You, I Am)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning -- Suggestive themes  
> Sorry for skipping so much in the beginning of this chapter, but I'm sure you can understand. There's just a lot of unimportant stuff that happens, like when they pack for Central and boring stuff like that. Hope you enjoy!

It took them a single day to reach the Amestrian border, where Briggs soldiers and medics were already nervously awaiting their arrival; fully prepared with medical kits and stretchers.

Beyond that moment the truck doors swung upon, everything was a blur to the general.

Miles and Miller were hauled off on the stretchers first. Miles, while feeling fine despite the lingering pain in his leg, protested the need for one, though medics on site insisted he did since he risked agitating the wound further if he put more weight on it. Miller, however, had fallen unconscious on their journey home; producing a fever. Medical staff feared that his leg injury had already been infected, perhaps due to the debris blown about by the landmine, so they tended to him first and foremost.

When asked to get on a stretcher due to her several smaller wounds, Olivier snapped angrily, once again insisting that all of her other soldiers get inside before her. It was the head Briggs doctor who stepped up, this time-- frowning and insisting with a tone that surprised her subordinates-- that Olivier be taken in on one as well, given that none of the other soldiers had explicit physical wounds that required attention like hers did. Reluctantly, and too tired to argue at this point, the general gave in to the doctor’s demands.

Nonetheless, everyone was examined once they stepped inside the fort. Confirming that no one else had any injuries, they were allowed to finally go rest in their own beds once again; not having to fear for their lives for the first time in more than a week. Meanwhile, Olivier was treated for the graze on her side she received while at the outpost, as well as the bad bullet wound she had in her shoulder. Though she was mostly patient and quiet as she was worked on, she couldn’t hold back her frustrated grumbles about how the wound was on the same arm that the homunculus Sloth had broken when she fought him during the Promised Day. They patched up her side, her shoulder, and a small cut she hadn’t realized she had on her jawline. In addition, they replaced the bandages on her hand, and though the cuts had already closed, it was merely a precaution just so that they would not reopen.

Miles left the infirmary before her, since the medics only replaced bandages and stitched up the wound that Miller did not have time to close while they were out in the field. Once Olivier was let out, it both did and did not surprise her that he was waiting outside the doors for her as if nothing had ever changed.

Miller would have to be there for a while, a doctor confirmed to the general before she had exited. The infection was of the exposed bone, and if antibiotics could not fight it off, his lower leg would be amputated. While they had quickly reassured her that automail would be an option in the event the leg had to be removed, Olivier replied to them on her way to the door that she would give him that option once he woke up, but she would not hesitate letting him retire if he wished. She also mentioned, however, that if he did want automail, there would always be a place for him in the mountain fortress.

The blonde, accompanied by her adjutant, returned to her office solely for a brief meeting with the colonel who had lead the fort in her absence. Once Stryker met up with her, she relayed every detail of their mission to him; the young colonel listening in respectful silence and nodding solemnly on occasion. Afterwards, he informed her that he had led the Drachmans to the guest bunks for their temporary stay while the general’s wounds were getting looked at, and while they could not see Karelia _now_ , they would be allowed to once the traffic in the infirmary calmed down.

Just as he was headed for the door after their discussion, Olivier had stopped him. He turned back to hear what she had to say, to which she ordered for him to radio Central Command immediately.

They could not afford to waste any time.

 

Grumman, after some threats from the major general, apprehensively agreed to hold a meeting with all of the highest military officials in the country. Their train tickets bought and their hotels booked; Olivier, Miles, and all three of the Drachmans prepared for their travel.

Two days passed; it was the earliest they could book a train straight from North City to Central. While it was not the earliest day the Führer was available for a meeting, even he was known to often bend under Olivier’s hostility-- and once she assured him how pressing the Drachman matter was, he relented, and cancelled one of his prior engagements.

Miles made his way up to Olivier’s office. It was mere hours before they were scheduled to be escorted to North, and he had already dropped his suitcase off out front at the transport truck they would be sent off in. The blonde hadn’t asked him to come see her-- he just thought he would offer his assistance if she needed help packing.

He knocked on her door quietly, and while he heard movement in the room, there was no reply allowing him to enter. However, there was no denying of his entry, either, and he was still unfathomably high-strung, given that it was but mere days after their harrowing journey to Drachma. Being even more paranoid than he usually was, he decided to check on her, despite not having explicit permission to step inside.

He opened the door a crack and peered in, his voice low and careful; “General?”

The first thing his red eyes fell upon was the sight of Karelia happily playing with several loose pieces of paper, amazed at the sound they made when she tore them in half with her small hands. Upon a quick, distant inspection of the papers, he saw that they were thankfully blank-- his natural instinct telling him to first make sure nothing important was being destroyed. It took him a moment to tear away from the trance the baby had put him in to notice Olivier.

She was seated in her chair, though it had been pulled out from behind her desk to the front of it so that she could watch Karelia play, the major guessed. However, her head was bowed; her face in her hands with her long, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders.

Miles never saw her like this-- except for on the occasions that she fell asleep at her desk, “Olivier, are you alright?”

He fully stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him, drawing both Karelia’s and the general's attentions. Karalia squealed in delight and reached for the man, her small fists making grabbing motions, while Olivier just stared up at him blankly-- her normally bright, blue eyes reddened from tears.

In an instant, he was at her side, large hands gently grabbing her shoulders as he stood in front of her. His voice shook with worry; even being her closest comrade and friend for many years, not once had he seen the general cry-- “General, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

If she was embarrassed, she didn’t show it. Her gaze met his for but a brief moment before she shook her head. She quickly turned away since the baby on the floor caught her eye, the little one crawling over to curiously see what all the fuss was about. Without a word, she bent forward and picked the Drachman up.

Understanding, Miles quietly gave her some room.

“I…” Olivier choked out, stifling more tears. “I just want her to be safe,” She finally managed to whisper, holding her closer. The general squeezed her eyes shut as she held her to her chest, Karelia paying no mind to whatever was wrong as she suddenly became very interested in one of the blonde’s many loose curls.

Her adjutant felt a sinking feeling deep from within his chest, and suddenly he noticed a lump in his throat as he watched the two. They had all been through so much in such a short amount of time, and his general was always such a secretive enigma; even to him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was feeling right now.

He swallowed, mustering up words that struggled to come forth, suppressing what would have very obviously been a shaking stammer, “Would you like me to pack for you, sir?”

With the back of her wrist, Olivier rubbed one of her eyes. She nodded.

 

Though she had travelled down to Central countless times since she had taken over lead of Fort Briggs, Olivier couldn’t help how long this particular train ride felt. Her and Miles had their own private compartment, and while the Kozhurovs were in their own, across from theirs, she remained restless. Multiple times, she asked Miles if he thought Karelia was being well-fed, and kept warm, and played with. Every instance, he reassured her that she was with her family now, and they were besides themselves with happiness once they were reunited with her. She even once asked one of the North soldiers guarding their compartments if they could pop their head in and ask the Drachmans if they needed anything.

Despite the journey being a long one, it was finally a moment for the general and her adjutant to rest and collect themselves. They talked some, though most of the conversation was about how the other was feeling, or how the food was-- they did not discuss the events of the Drachman infiltration. It was still too fresh; too real.

The blonde was quietly getting some overdue paperwork done when she first noticed the small motion of the Ishvalan’s head lolling to the side. She glanced up, distracted and curious, to see that he had fallen asleep-- his face perfectly calm, comfortable, and beautiful. The sun had just recently set, which is why Olivier had grown suspicious of his silence-- usually, he would have already berated her about how working without adequate lighting would strain her eyes-- but the gentle light of the new moon was soft on the angular edges of his face. He was slightly leaned back in his seat, his hands restfully crossed over his wide chest.

Olivier propped her head up in her hand as her elbow sat upon the table, and the gradual realization that her lips had curled gently into a fond smile brought heat to her cheeks. Still, she could not look away, and while she managed to wipe the warm expression from her face, her eyes stayed on him. She was glad he was finally getting some rest-- she knew that she hadn’t been able to get much herself-- and that he seemed comfortable despite the occasional small bumps the train had as it moved on its tracks. What broke her from her tranquil stupor was the small breath he drew in as he remained asleep, his chest rising ever so slightly, before he exhaled a soft and slow sigh.

She had felt this flutter of her heart only a few times before in her life-- but every single time it occurred, it had been brought upon by something her adjutant said or did.

It was in that subdued luminescence of the moon, in the silent train bound for Central City, where Olivier finally admitted to herself that she had been in love for all these years.

 

Olivier never stayed with her family when she visited Central-- it was always too much of a headache. Between her parents bombarding her with the same twenty questions every visit and Alex wanting to talk her ear off as he hugged her until she suffocated, she always preferred to simply get a hotel near the Central Headquarters building. She had called and booked two two-bed suites while they were in North City awaiting their train; one for the Drachmans and one for her and her adjutant. Miles hadn’t been on nearly as many meeting trips as she had been, but every time he accompanied her, she had booked them each their own room-- though he didn’t mind. While she definitely had the money for more than two rooms thanks to her family fortune, she had never been one to spend frivolously, and upon Miles offering to room with her, she had immediately accepted.

They arrived early in the morning, and thanks to Olivier finally getting some rest on the train shortly after Miles had drifted off, both of them were wide awake. This was good, especially since Olivier’s first meeting, which was solely with the Führer and his cabinet, was only mere hours away around noon.

The general and her adjutant stepped inside their room once the blonde got it unlocked. She was always used to the extravagance of the Central Military Conference Hotel, having been raised an Armstrong, but every time the Ishvalan set foot inside, he would be dumbfounded by the beauty of the architecture, the luxury of the decor, and the lavish atmosphere. Having grown up in a poor family even before his experience with the Ishvalan War, he was always grateful that Olivier booked the deluxe rooms on instinct, as if it was no big deal to her. Despite being a high-end hotel often used for military purposes, as the name suggested, civilians were allowed to book rooms as well-- and one could only imagine the delight the Drachmans had at the sight of the grand and opulent building they would have the privilege of staying in for a few days.

Upon a quick inspection of all of the features of the room, a typical thing Olivier would always do before fully unpacking and settling into a suite, she sat her suitcase down on her bed and began unpacking. Miles had never actually shared a room with her, so he wasn’t used to her habits, yet he decided to follow her movements and set his suitcase on his own bed as well, “General?”

She hummed an acknowledgement.

“You have a few hours until your meeting. What are you planning on doing?”

“I really need a shower,” she replied flatly.

He tried not to smile at her deadpan tone, which served to amuse him for whatever reason. “Would you like me to go get food for you?”

She shook her head, setting her suitcase on the floor beside her bed, “I’ll leave a bit early and grab something on the way. Feel free to prowl the town if you like, though. You’re free unless everything goes well and another meeting is scheduled for tomorrow; I’ll want you there with me.”

Though he didn’t outwardly show it, her last sentence brought a small blossom of happiness to the major. The fact that he was wanted, especially by the person he cherished most, always served to bring him an immense feeling of comfort and security.

“I may just do that.”

“Just don’t be out too long,” Olivier spoke, stepping out of her boots with the smallest hint of effort as she made her way towards the door to the en-suite bathroom. “We both need to get a good amount of sleep tonight.”

He smiled as she closed the door behind her, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Hey, General!”

Though she heard the voice from far behind her as she walked through the halls of Central Command, she immediately groaned. The blonde, no matter how much she wished otherwise, always recognized that voice.

“God, anyone but you,” she sighed as the flame alchemist sidled up beside her. His walk was always a stride; he always seemed so sure of himself as he stuck one hand in his pocket, the other holding a journal or a planner. Olivier didn’t personally care to look down and find out what exactly it was. Besides, note-taking materials weren’t uncommon at political meetings such as this one.  

He shot her a friendly smile, “Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into a real mess, huh?”

“Like the past few years of your life weren’t a total mess?” She shot a glare up at him-- though their height difference wasn’t nearly as stark as hers and Miles’s.

His eyebrows furrowed in concern once he noticed the small bandage on her jaw, “What all happened up there? I only got a gist of it.”

“Be patient, Sparky,” the blonde frowned, her eyes looking back ahead of her, always amused at how Central soldiers hastily saluted or changed their course to avoid the major general upon the rare sight of her in their city. As she watched them, she was once again silently thankful for the powerful reverence and respect her own soldiers in Briggs had for her, unlike the sorry and pitiful excuses for servicemen here. “I’ll tell you and everyone else every gory detail. I’ve got to say, I don’t even know why you’re coming to this meeting, though.”

He chuckled softly, “I’m a three-star general, aren’t I?”

Her blue eyes flickered back up to him, this time to his shoulder, to prove a point, “Not yet.”

“Well,” he lifted the hand from his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. “Not officially. The next upcoming promotions ceremony is going to be held next week, though, so I’ll be a general by the time my crew and I get sent off to Ishval.”

“Pity,” Olivier hummed, pursing her lips. “No more popcorn jokes.”

“Ha-ha, yeah, _because I’m a kernel_ ,” Roy tilted his head from side to side with each syllable of his mock-laugh. He walked in silence once Olivier left him without a reply, though a smirk quickly found its way to his face when he was struck with an idea.

Olivier immediately recognized the look, to which she rolled her eyes, “Oh, no--”

“How’s Miles?” His tone seemed cordial enough, but the major general knew better than to trust that.

“He’s fine.”

“I know he’s doing _well_. How is he? Like, good, or…?”

She looked up in some form of confusion-- though her perplexity was instantaneously snuffed once she saw his smug, shit-eating grin. Oh, she understood now.

“What makes you think I know the answer to that, you little twerp?” She retorted, unable to stifle a small flippant exhale through her nose.

“Olivier,” Roy chimed, pronouncing her name slowly, making the eye hidden behind Olivier’s hair twitch in supreme annoyance. “I can tell you have crazy feelings for him. Your brother enjoys blabbing to me about how much you talk about him and what you say about him every time you visit. I don’t think he knows, but _believe me_ , _I_ do.”

“Listen, fucker, I will kill you right where you stand. I don’t give a _fuck_ if I rot in jail,” She spat back-- thankfully, no one else was around to hear their new topic or conversation (or her dangerous threat).

The soon-to-be general gave her a lighthearted laugh, always pleased to get a rise out of her. They had known each other for quite a long time, especially since Madame Christmas had connections all throughout Central. Even though the patriarch and matriarch of the Armstrong family did not personally care to interact with her, they had mutual acquaintances, which resulted in the Armstrong children-- namely Olivier and Alex-- to be acquainted with Roy. “Relax, Snowball, I won’t tell anyone.”

With how angry she was getting, an outsider could’ve guessed _she_ was the flame alchemist, not the man walking beside her, “I _swear to god_ , Roy--”

“I mean,” his smirk returned, “I’m sure you’re good. I bet he had a great time--”

She took a swing at him, though he faltered in his steps, the hesitation helping him dodge the swift attack, “Nothing happened!”

“I read that Grumman’s making exceptions to that frat law, you know,” He added matter-of-factly as his pace evened out beside her once again, his smile returning to a normal conversational one; not one that made him look like the cat who ate the canary.

“ **_Gee_ ** ,” Olivier countered loudly, so loaded with sarcasm, it was practically dripping from her lips, “I didn’t know you could read.”

“One of the many skills I have,” he shrugged casually, shoving his free hand back into his pocket. “I mean, that and catching feelings for my assistant. Though, it’s definitely beginning to look like you and I have that in common.”

Him and Riza, while not exactly legal yet in the eyes of the military, were definitely a public item after the events of the Promised Day. Everyone knew, yet no one said anything-- Hell, even Grumman was aware of it, thanks to the gossip from not only servicemen, but Roy’s own foster mother as well. It was just one of the many unspoken goings-on in the military.

Olivier grumbled angrily. She had already been done with their conversation before it had even begun, now it was just a plain waste of energy for her.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Roy assured, turning back to look at her as they walked on. “You two are obviously perfect for each other. I mean, how many years has he been keeping you out of trouble? I can probably guarantee your soldiers have a betting pool about when you guys would finally hook up.”

Choosing to ignore his last few statements, Olivier returned his calm gaze-- though her eyes were pure, sharp icicles boring straight into his very soul, “I absolutely despise you.”

He flashed her a triumphant smile.

“Where _is_ Riza, by the way? She needs to reign in her dumb dog.”

Roy raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times before he got it, “Oh. You mean me, don’t you?”

The major general sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Honestly, Olivier,” the man began again, his tone more gentle. “I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t your friend.”

‘We aren’t friends.”

“You.. Replied a little too quickly for comfort,” Roy replied, letting out a small chuckle laced with nervousness. “But,” he gave her a tight smile, making sure she saw it before continuing, “I know what you’re going through, and it’s okay. I was worried about letting go all of my feelings at first, but it all worked out, and my stress was all for nothing. The fact of the matter is, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you, and I know that deep down, no matter how much you want to deny it, you know it too. So stop contesting that and face the truth. Even if you two aren’t together right now, maybe you should go have a long and truthful talk with him after this all blows over, huh?”

Her eyes searched his for a moment, still suspicious of his sudden kind words, but definitely giving him her undivided attention now. “I’d be willing to bet that he’s been absolutely head-over-heels with you for a while now.”

A moment passed once he was done speaking, and Olivier seemed thoughtful for a moment before frowning and looking away again. They rounded a corner and found themselves in front of the large doors of the main meeting room, guarded by two Central soldiers armed with mosin-nagants.

She could hear the snicker in Roy’s voice as he set a hand on the door, opening it for her, “Just be sure to invite me to the wedding, okay?”

“ _Tsk_ , yeah,” Olivier snorted venomously, pushing past him. “You’ll be the main course. God knows you won’t be attending alive.”

Before he followed her inside, Roy raised his voice slightly so she could still hear, “You didn’t deny the wedding part.”

The major general groaned loudly, facepalming.

 

Unfortunately, Grumman had been very talkative that day, so many, many questions were asked of the major general during their meeting-- which only served to lengthen the time their council took before eventually drawing to a close. Besides her, Roy, and the Führer, there were six other members of the Cabinet; all newly-appointed generals, like the flame alchemist, meant to replace the corrupted members who had led the country under Father’s rule before the events of the Promised Day. Olivier, personally, had been quite pleased with most of Grumman’s choices-- while she did not know any of the new Cabinet personally, besides Roy, she had heard mainly positive things about their command. It hadn’t taken long for Grumman to designate new leaders, especially since many in the old Cabinet had been killed-- Olivier had the liberty of personally taking the lives of the Lieutenant Generals Raven and Gardner, while she essentially led Fox to his death; being ultimately dispatched by Sloth.

She was more than glad to leave the meeting room once their discussion had concluded. While their assembly had gone better than expected, and Grumman immediately agreed to host another meeting the following day, the conference room still held many bad memories for Olivier. Despite being wholeheartedly proud of the actions she took and the decisions she had made during the Promised Day, having to betray her military (though, it technically wasn’t _her_ military, was it?) left a bad taste in her mouth that, even after months, had not left her.

It was dark now; their meeting had dragged on for hours, despite Olivier being rather quick about her side of the story, even though she relayed every single thing to them in great detail. It took some convincing in order to get the other Cabinet members to come to an agreement about what actions they should take, but it had ultimately ended once they made the general decision to take the fight to Drachma. They would reinstate the old regime after all-- given that their plan came to fruition.

The blonde, despite being mentally tired, was not physically in the slightest. This feeling was rare for her; at that moment, she just wanted to lay down and stare up at the ceiling. Perhaps she would once she arrived at her hotel room. She just felt as if she really needed to collect her thoughts-- not only about the whole Drachman situation, but her thoughts about her adjutant, as well.

She quietly rapped on the hotel room door, since she was unaware if Miles was in for the night or not.

“Come in,” his voice was soft.

At his affirmation, she gently turned the handle and opened the door. Stepping inside, she immediately removed her boots at the door.

Her adjutant was laying in bed, his bedside lamp on and a pair of reading glasses on his nose as he read a book-- Olivier had often noticed that was what he would do in the little spare time he had at the fort.

“Hello, General,” he greeted, red eyes turning up to watch her as she closed the door behind her. “You can turn the light on if you want, I had just--”

The general shook her head, “No, it’s alright. Were you going to go to bed soon?”

He gave her a small, slightly embarrassed smile, “Normally, yes, which is why I had the overhead light off, but I wanted to make sure you got back here safely.”

“Oh,” Olivier blinked, rather touched. He always served to break her out of whatever sour or depressed mood she was in; maybe this _was_ a good moment to speak to him after all. She was at a loss of words for a moment, “Have you eaten?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

It was his turn to blink, expression blank, “I-I don’t know.”

“Let me bring you something, I haven’t eaten yet either,” The general said, moving back over to step back into her boots. Miles started to protest, but stopped. “Want anything specific?”

“All the food they have here is wonderful, so, no, sir. Anything is fine.”

The blonde nodded slightly, leaving as quickly as she had arrived.

 

It did not take her long to retrieve food and return to the room. When she got back, Miles was still reading, though she could noticeably tell that he was nearly done with his novel.

“What are you reading?” She questioned, closing the door behind her with her heel, slightly encumbered by the meals she had returned with.

“Nothing important,” her adjutant replied quickly, slightly slamming the book shut and laying it face-down on the bedside table. He straightened when she set his dinner down next to him; Olivier trying her hardest not to eye his bare arms as he sat in his undershirt. Wordlessly, she made her way back over to the door to once again remove her boots; already beginning to tear into her own food while walking.

Choosing not to pry about whatever book he was reading, Olivier took a bite, stepping out of her shoes. Afterwards, she silently made her way over to her suitcase that lay on the floor beside her bed, bending down and retrieving a small stack of papers. Actually taking his time as he ate in contrast to his superior who was wolfing down her meal, the Ishvalan watched curiously as she spread the loose papers across her sheets, seemingly looking for one in particular.

She swallowed her bite, “Can you hand me that candle next to you?”

Miles blinked before glancing at his bedside table. Whenever he slept, whether it was a hotel or his bunk back at Briggs, he had always felt comforted by the presence of a candle near him. Years ago, upon his commander politely asking about the strange habit, Miles had told her that it was a thing he had done for as long as he could remember. Having grown up in a small, very low-end house, the electricity was extremely unreliable, so his mother had always told him to keep a candle by his bed just in case something happened with the lights.

It took a small stretch from him in order to branch the distance between their beds, but he successfully handed the candle off to her as she finished her last bite. She kneeled to her suitcase again, retrieving a match and promptly lighting the candle before setting it down on her own bedside table.

What she did next, Miles did not expect in the slightest. She lifted a single paper-- one she had singled out from the rest-- and began to set it aflame. In the darkness of the room and the dull moonlight from the window, Miles could not tell exactly what was on the sheet, but he could tell it for sure was not just words.

“What is that?” He asked, finishing his meal as well.

“The plans.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “For?”

“How to make the phosgene.”

His heart sank.

“I took it from Research and Development before we left, I don’t want anyone dying from this ever again. Chemical warfare is too slow and painful. I talked to the doctors-- even if Sikorsky had survived, he would have had permanent lung damage.” She glanced back at him, her eyes dull with sadness, “Damage that would have most likely been so bad, he would have _wanted_ to die anyway. Guns are different. It’s either a quick death, or simply a sharp pain. I’d rather go out like that than slowly lose the ability to breathe, while in pain, while fearing for what would happen to me even if I ended up living.”

Miles stared back at her; he could tell she was hurting, deeply, “I understand.”

“I just don’t know what I would do,” Olivier sighed, allowing the last bits of paper to flitter down to the candle holder before she gently blew out the candle. She looked back up at him again, her voice low, “I don’t appreciate you enough, Miles, and I’m deeply sorry.”

“What?” He asked her, eyebrows knitting together once again. She lowered her gaze to the carpet as she took a seat on the edge of her bed, yet Miles stood. Silently, he rounded her bed and sat beside her, “Why do you say that? I know you appreciate me. I’ve told you before, you’ve honestly been the kindest a commander has ever been to an adjutant.”

“That’s not it,” The general said, glancing away from him, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “You’ve been on this journey with me, and it hurts me to realize how many times I could have lost you.”

“General,” Miles also sighed, the two avoiding the other’s gaze in tandem. “Do you know how much I worry?”

His question was different, to say the least, which caused Olivier to finally look back up at him, giving him a peculiar look.

“Permission to speak freely?”

Blonde eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t necessarily upset that he kept his formality, since she knew he was just trying to stay professional, but something in this moment made her wish he would drop it for just a little while, “Of course.”

“You really don’t take good care of yourself, sir.” At her odd and defensive expression, he quickly continued, “Just that you always put everyone before yourself, and I wish you would just… I don’t know, care about yourself a little more.”

“Why?” She asked, rather childishly, unprepared for his answer.

“Because _I_ care about you, sir, and just like how you would blame yourself if something happened to me, it would be _my_ fault if something happened to _you_.”

His tone was slightly raised, but Olivier knew he was not upset with her. Great worry often sounded similar, and she was well aware of that.

He finally made eye contact with her. Never before had they held each other’s gaze this closely for so long, and Miles was suddenly so entranced in her beauty, he didn’t realize her beginning to inch closer, her expression gentle and her voice soft. “I care about you too,” she whispered, “More than anyone else.”

Her own blue eyes were, for once, not sharp spears of ice, but the peaceful sky of Briggs on a cloudless day; while Miles’s were not the burning blood of his fallen people, but rather the glow of the sun as it sank below the horizon, painting the sky red.

Feelings that were too soft for her liking had been buried deep long ago, to never surface again in a show of weakness. They threatened to out themselves in a glorious display--a dangerous culmination of what years of hindering her true feelings had eventually evolved into. She was overcome with fear and worry-- rare emotions for her; but she could already notice the wall crumbling between them, her guard lowering. _What would he think_ , she fret. Still, as it had always done, his presence soothed her, and it was as if she could physically feel the nerves and stress melting from her. In the end, she decided that it was all worth the risk. They were not at work, they were alone, in the quiet and the calm. No judging eyes to grimace at her words as they left her.

Questions were flashing through Miles's mind as his commander’s fingertips touched his jaw; feather-light and uncharacteristically delicate for a woman three ranks below Fuhrer.

Despite being her closest ally and, unquestionably, her best friend, this was a side of Olivier the major was all too unfamiliar with. He didn't even know the blonde was capable of such gentle affection. Something deep within him told him what was going to happen, but he tried to dismiss it. He had learned to assume nothing romantic from the playful banter or warm, caring moments they had shared throughout their years of knowing one another, but this was a feeling that he could only describe as, for the first time, all too right. Their gazes remained locked together, their irises contrasting in the light of the moon, and he was once again reminded of their differences. Class, ethnicity, and even the purity of their bloodlines were opposing. Prior to the Promised Day, it would only make all the sense in the world for these two people to try and kill each other.

But he knew that didn't matter. Both of them saw past everything physical. He had fallen in love with her strong soul, and unbeknownst to him, she had done the same for him.

His eyes closed, content even just at her warm touch. He could die now and he'd be happy, he thought. He felt the warmth of her face as she leaned to him, closing the distance between commander and adjutant as her lips met his. It would make sense that Olivier's plump lips would be soft, though he attempted to never entertain the thought just in case she _could_ have been able to read minds all along; something the Briggs soldiers usually enjoyed joking about-- that, and that she had eyes on the back of her head. Yet, he didn't have to think of it as fiction any longer.

Warmth blossomed within the general as she kissed her major, pleased with how quickly and delightfully he responded. She felt as if she was splitting at the seams with bliss, grateful for the fact that she was with the only other human she could fully be herself around. She didn't even want to fight the curiosities and the affectionate notions any longer; it was time for her to give in to what she had felt and suppressed for so long. That god damned Roy had been right, for once. Her kiss and caress were gentle, inviting him to rest his hands on her hips, nothing rushed or hurried. Miles opened his mouth and attempted to form words that only fell from him as a stammer, his dark complexion initially reddening from the tenderness, then the embarrassment borne from his incoherence. Olivier smiled in mirth, Miles's face growing even warmer at the seldom-witnessed expression.

"G-General," he began, finally developing the humble beginning of a sentence. Olivier's smile did not fade, though it grew more fond.

"Olivier's fine."

"Olivier," he corrected himself, trying to convince himself that it wasn't insubordination to call one’s commanding officer their first name in the heat of such a tender and personal moment. "I..."

"I know," the blonde said, softer, as she leaned closer to him again. Their lips met once again in a single kiss, both more comfortable with one another. As Olivier slowly drew back once again, their gazes met.

"I love you too."

The walls were down. Never once were they crumbled by the shells and cannonfire that plagued them, but finally through a force more powerful. A single spark of hope slipping its way between the metal sheets of the fortress, igniting into an impregnable and inextinguishable fire on the other side. Both of Olivier's hands caressed Miles's face as they continued, his hands migrating from her hips to the small of her back, drawing her closer. Their chests touched, and Miles, despite being unsure if he believed or not, prayed to Ishvala that Olivier couldn't feel his face grow hotter at the contact. She pressed closer, her weight causing him to softly fall back onto the bed, pulling her with him. He froze in chagrin, worried his loss of balance had ruined the moment-- yet the warm laugh that rumbled from Olivier’s chest and the loving smile she wore as she lay on him instantly dissolved his slight panic.

Their touches grew increasingly heavy as time drew on, and before long, buttons were being undone on Olivier’s uniform as they continued to kiss. They had waited what had seemed like lifetimes for these feelings to be acted upon. Everything felt right. Rather, ‘right’ couldn’t even _begin_ to explain it.

They had always acted as a singular, powerful force. Commander and adjutant, queen and knight-- their strategies and battle tactics combined; twisted and merged into what was a blizzard of a military power. They were a northern wind blowing from all directions, destroying anything in their path. Together, they were unstoppable, Fort Briggs immovable under their rule; famously and infamously known as the most unshakable, perfect defense unit in the Amestrian military.

Finally, in this moment, they could enjoy each other for all that they were. They didn't have to be soldiers here, for a short while. They could simply be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))))))))))))))  
> And thus, it happens.  
> Please feel free to leave a comment or a kudos if you haven't already!
> 
> I'd also like to give a big thank you to word-spielen, who helped beta read this! If you like FMA or even Yuri on Ice, go check out her stuff and give her lots of love!


	16. Rally to Arms

It was probably the most gentle awakening the major general had experienced in her entire life. She was enveloped in comfortable warmth-- on one side, the soft radiating sunlight that shone through the window of their hotel room; on the other, body heat. She was not roused from sleep by anything specific; just her own internal clock, having been accustomed to the countless early mornings she had while in command at Briggs. 

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking the sleep away after a few moments. Her first sight brought a warm smile to her face-- her adjutant, the man she loved, had both his arms wrapped tightly around her and was holding her to his sculpted chest, still in deep slumber. Even just the contact of their bare skin and his peaceful expression served to kindle that same unfamiliar, affectionate warmth within her chest-- though, it wasn’t very unfamiliar anymore.

Olivier, at about chest-level with the major, inched up onto her pillow a bit further so that she was now at eye-level with him. She took a moment to study his face, admiring him in silence. She had always been so busy looking into his eyes, she had never really gotten close enough to notice that his eyelashes were light in color; similar to his hair. While they weren’t white, they were a mid-toned gray-- but nonetheless eye-catching. His features, while not necessarily sharp, were definitely angular, and Olivier even noticed the hint of stubble beginning to show on his chin and jawline. She knew it must have been due to the lack of personal grooming time the two of them had since they returned from Drachma; with all of the meeting-scheduling, planning, patient-visiting, and healing time, it was a miracle Olivier had even found time to take a few very brief showers amongst the chaos. 

She had to admit, though, she found the uncharacteristic scruffy look to be quite attractive on him. It was different, to say the least; similar as to how the reading glasses he wore last night sparked the same interested and curious feeling within her. 

The general leaned forward in his arms slightly, her nose lightly touching his cheek. She smiled gently once again, just happy with the gentle contact, even if he wasn’t awake to notice it. Softly, she turned her head and nuzzled the side of his nose, affectionate and filled with nothing but a pure love.

He stirred slightly, causing Olivier to stop. She didn’t want to prematurely wake him up, especially since they were _ finally _ getting some good, wholesome sleep in this hotel room. Carefully, she craned her neck to glance at the clock on her nightstand. Nine-thirty. This was the latest she had awoken in a very long time, and she knew it was similar for Miles, since he was often not too long after her waking up in the mornings. Sleep was often hard for her to come by again once she had woken up, so she decided to get up, maybe shower-- maybe even  _ bathe _ . The thought made her sigh audibly, she couldn’t even recall the last time she was able to have a nice, long bath.

Olivier sat up stiffly, taking great care to maneuver out of Miles’s strong arms without waking him. She had absolutely  _ crashed _ into a deep sleep the night prior, and her lower back was sore--  _ wonder why _ . The blonde raised her arms, stretching slightly in an attempt to loosen her joints. The sunlight from the window was still warm on her, yet the gentle falling of the blanket off her chest allowed for a draft of cooler air to reach bare skin, causing her to shudder slightly. She felt more movement beside her, though initially, she thought it just to be her adjutant moving without waking. She, however, was wrong.

“Hello,” he spoke softly, his voice airy and friendly, still muddled with sleep. She glanced back to see him shift and get comfortable again, before giving her possibly the warmest smile she had ever seen on another human being.

Despite their newly-found intimacy, she still felt a blush spread across her face, “Good morning.”

The Ishvalan attempted to stifle a yawn, but he failed, his face contorting in the most endearing and amusing way.

“Did I wake you?” The general questioned. 

Miles nodded slightly, closing his eyes for a moment once again, “But it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Olivier began, glancing away for a moment as the major snuggled back down under their thick blanket. “How are you feeling?”

He hummed contentedly, “Like I’m on a cloud.”

The smallest hint of a smile began to surface, though Olivier managed to submerge it, glancing back at him with a worried look. “I’m serious, you look really tired,” she replied, leaning back onto her elbow. Without necessarily thinking, she lifted her other hand and delicately caressed his cheek, the impact of the affection and gentleness going unnoticed by her. It, however, had a powerful effect on her adjutant, whose dark complexion flushed lightly at the sudden tenderness. Her thumb softly brushed his cheekbone, inviting Miles to lean into her touch slightly, subtly returning the fondness. 

He countered her worry with a warm smile, “Just happy.”

“Oh,” Olivier’s tone brightened slightly at his smile. She gently let her hand fall, her knuckles brushing his chest briefly, “You can skip the meeting today if you wanted to sleep in more. I was going to get a bath then get ready, I have to be at Headquarters half past eleven.”

It was the man’s turn to sit up with some effort, yawning once again, “That’s okay, I want to be with you.”

The blonde turned away so she could hide her small relieved smile. Of course, she always wanted her adjutant by her side-- he comforted and calmed her-- but she wasn’t about to force him to join her at a meeting he already knew all about, “I’ll go ahead and take that bath, if it’s okay with you.”

She didn’t notice Miles gazing at her sleepily, groggily scratching what beginnings of stubble there were on his jawline, “Yes sir, go ahead.”

He paused for a moment, watching her figure as she stood, suddenly very interested. “You know, it’s… Kind of odd calling you ‘sir’ now, seeing how feminine you are like this,” he brought up, giving her a calm and innocent smile-- though his words were not nearly as such. He  _ was _ telling the truth; she was almost unrecognizable without the layers of military-issued clothing, especially from the back, where her face and signature eye-covering hair were no longer seen. Curves were made much more evident, and while slight muscle was still visible, the shoulder pads of the uniform often caused her to look overall bigger than she truly was-- and even in her blues, she was still smaller than the majority of the soldiers in the fortress she ruled.  

Olivier chuckled, “You see me without clothes once, and suddenly you’re a flirt, Miles?”

What red already tinted his cheeks severely deeped at her words, “I’m flirting?”

She flashed him a rather entertained smile as she retrieved a towel, “If ‘cute’ was a word in my vocabulary, I’d definitely use it right now to describe you and that bloom in your face.”

Through his embarrassment, he allowed himself a smile. Despite her typically professional and stoic demeanor, Miles had grown to know Olivier as a woman who quite often liked to throw around a few deadpan jokes once in awhile. Her humor was often dark, and dry, but the rare occurrence that it presented itself, he always found it funny. If Major General Armstrong joked with you, you could consider yourself held in her good graces.

She wrapped the towel around herself just so she wouldn’t have to carry it in her hand as she knelt before her suitcase, retrieving a hairbrush. Miles continued to watch her, a comfortable silence drawing out between them, until he cleared his throat, “Hey.”

Blue eyes glanced up at him as she brushed out several tangles from her long, curled hair. 

For whatever reason, he couldn’t necessarily put a finger on it-- he was hesitant. Perhaps it was because they weren’t currently in the throes of passion, and he still wasn’t fully sure of how appropriate it was to say such a thing when not in the heat of such a moment, but he wanted to be sure she knew nonetheless, “I love you.”

An amused yet gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips, “I know, dear, you told me every five minutes last night.”

He felt heat reach all the way to his ears, and his heart thud heavily against his ribcage, so he quickly and embarrassedly turned his red gaze down to the blanket. Not only had she, the Ice Queen, the Northern Wall of Briggs, just used a _ fucking pet name _ for him, but it seemed as if he had made a fool of himself in the night. He hadn’t realized he said it _ that  _ much.

Her footsteps were silent, so he didn’t notice her padding to his side of the bed-- he only realized her presence once both of her hands; slightly scarred, but soft, took his face and gently drew him closer to her. 

Olivier’s gentle smile hadn’t faded. She leaned forward slightly, planting an ethereal kiss unto his forehead. Rearing back slowly, ice irises met blood red, “I love you too.”

Leaving him in a bit of a daze, the blonde quietly left the bedside and made her way into the en-suite bathroom, “I won’t be long.”

  
  


It took all of his self-control not to walk even closer to her as the pair made their way down the hallways of the main Headquarters building. They received the usual stares-- those that were still surprised and shocked to see the Briggs general prowling around in Central; others still not used to seeing an uninhibited Ishvalan (or even just one with Ishvalan _ features _ , in Miles’s quarter-Ishvalan case) out and about. 

The meeting was to be held in a room much, much larger than the one they had been in the day prior, to accomodate for the influx of soldiers in attendance. Those officials in and around Central were all called in for an emergency gathering; those important enough to be included yet too far for immediate travel were to be informed of the summit’s contents as soon as it concluded. 

Miles held the door for her, allowing her to step inside before him. Typically, a room of smaller numbers would be called to attention and a salute when one of high ranking entered, yet the congregation was full of senior officers already, and many were talking amongst themselves-- not disrespectful, yet too preoccupied to notice her entry. Among those in attendance were the Flame Alchemist and his own adjutant, already seated and patiently awaiting for everyone to arrive and for the meeting to begin. Secretaries were setting up their equipment to record what was to be said, and even two military photographers were present.

“Fuck,” Olivier sighed between her teeth, drawing Miles’s attention. “I didn’t know there’d be photographers. I’m having a bad skin day.”

“You’ll do fine, sir,” Miles gave her a small, encouraging smile. He found it slightly difficult to suppress the feelings he felt when looking at her now, but he had been doing so for years already-- he was a natural, at this point. “Would you like me to do anything?”

The blonde shook her head, “Just nudge me or something if I miss any points. Feel free to speak up, too.”

The major nodded slightly, politely. He knew she had no problems with informality between them, but he figured he’d play it safe and remain as professional as possible in the presence of other military officers, especially some of the more nosy ones. The last thing he wanted was for Olivier to get in major trouble due to frat laws.

As a matter of fact, he should talk to her about that, he thought. Would she want this budding relationship to continue once they returned to Briggs? How would they act?

All he was sure of was that he didn’t want this to ever end. 

 

Around twenty or so minutes after the major general and her adjutant took their own seats, the remainders of the guests filtered into the room, and the meeting began. The Führer opened the discussion with a very brief summary of the last month’s events before allowing Olivier to take over. Calmly and coolly as she always was, she sat in her chair, often leaning back with arms crossed over her chest or leaning forward with her elbows on the table, hands clasped together as she spoke. As she had done in the first meeting, she first went over all of the events chronologically and in great detail. She pushed the fact that she lost two men-- one not even able to say goodbye as he was gunned down, while the other died in her arms as they were on the road to their homeland. This seemed to strike a chord in many of the soldiers present, though still some wore the furrowed brows of those who were not convinced. 

“And with that, we are here today,” Olivier closed the tale of their journey. She paused, taking a nice, long sweep of the men and women in the room; all of their eyes on her. “That is the purpose of this meeting today. Führer Grumman has already agreed to take action against this looming threat, and now we ask for your cooperation and assistance in these coming days as we decide what  _ exactly _ we shall do. As you all should know, I take the utmost pride in the men I have trained at Fort Briggs, yet even I know our limits. We’re known as the perfect unit of defense in the Amestrian military-- but that is all we are, and all we have been. A wall is incapable of moving on its own, and as such, Briggs as a military construct has never carried out an actual attack on foreign soil, and we need your help.” She closed her blue eyes, and Miles could tell she was currently in the process of choosing the correct words to say.

“We did not even see a fraction of the military power Drachma has accumulated throughout these years of our fragile, now fractured, agreement of peace. It is also more than likely, simply statistically, that spies entered our country during that era of heightened tension-- whether it was under Briggs’s nose, which is unlikely; or the more probable possibility, through northern Creta or even the desert between us and Xing, since Drachma also shares borders with them. Because of this, they could have stolen military technology and improved upon it. Hell, they could even have Alchemy or Alkahestry for all we know-- and that fact in itself is extremely dangerous. You can see where I’m going with this,” she straightened slightly in her chair. “We will need as much firepower as possible, just to be safe. Typically, when we fight military targets, they have some semblance of honor-- but we’re up against rebels who have no respect for human life. We must pull out all the stops. I ask that those of you in charge of Research and Development units pitch in with any new weaponry you may have that could possibly give us an advantage over the enemy.”

Many soldiers exchanged glances, murmuring softly to one another. 

“Major General,” one older soldier spoke up-- a colonel, and from the South Area, judging by where he was sitting. “I’m sure that I speak for myself and many others when I say that I see no point in involving ourselves in the affairs of a neighbor that is not our ally. Why should we waste the manpower?”

The corner of her lips twitched into a small frown, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Even the small gesture was enough to cause a chill down many of the present soldiers’ spines. 

“I see that you’re still in the mindset of the regime dead and gone.”

“Excuse me?”

“That kind of attitude belongs six feet under with that monster we’d been calling our  _ King _ for decades,” she scowled, eyes narrowing further with her brow furrowed. Even the side of her nose wrinkled into the hint of a snarl, “So, you’d rather us sit idly by as innocent people are starved and killed under the iron fist of a ruthless and bloodthirsty extremist group, simply because they happened to have been born and raised in a country that is not ours? Do you not remember the horrors of Ishval? And those were our  _ own _ people!”

“They were  _ Ishvalan _ \--” the soldier stood, raising his voice.

“Ishval _ is part of  _ Amestris-- if you could simply see past your egotistical and exclusionary ideals and read a god damn history book, maybe you’d know not only that, but that the _ entire _ War of Extermination was orchestrated by the homunculi-- who tried to use you to fuel _ their  _ desires, if your shriveled brain can remember what happened mere months ago,” The major general did not stand, but her tone lowered dangerously all whilst growing louder. Numerous pairs of surprised eyes bore into her, yet she did not waver; “We are a new regime to be built on the foundations of restoration and acceptance, and if you cannot find it in yourself to follow this new,  _ healthier _ government, then you are not part of Amestris, colonel.”

All of those eyes slowly and simultaneously turned to him, and suddenly, the high and mighty was small. He slowly took his seat, silenced.

“Now then,” Olivier’s tone lightened somewhat. “I, for one, am not going to sit by while people are killed, and we can do something about it. If we did not have the ability to help ourselves, and a similar thing happened to us-- which, mind you,  _ it did _ \-- I would personally hope that an ally would lend aid. What happens in one country has the power to radiate unto its neighbors, and even if we did nothing, the conflict would eventually find its way not only to us, but Creta, and Aerugo, and Xing as well.”

It took everything in Miles not to just crack a proud grin. It was obvious that most, if not all, of the men and women in the room were now in agreement with her. 

“Briggs currently has its 30.01 H tanks fully operational and prepped for combat, following our success here at Central during the Promised Day. In addition, we have our mortars, siege guns, and our typical artillery and firearms. My team has also recently developed and tested both aerosanis and machine gun prototypes, and all that is required of them is a field test in combat-- which will obviously come to fruition very soon. I propose that, at least, we get combat units from both Briggs and East City and combine them, since the East Army is regarded as the most offensive if we are the most defensive. Any other manpower can be used to bulk up numbers, since the amount of boots on the ground is going to be vital in this operation. This is only because Drachma is known for having an innumerable number of soldiers to make up for how unskilled and poorly trained they often are. This is still no reason to become complacent, however, and I’m sure you understand.”

A few soldiers nodded, and Olivier straightened a few papers in front of her.

“In closing, I once again ask that those of you in charge of Research and Development lend us any weaponry you may have in your arsenal. Please keep in touch regarding how much help you can give, and if any of you are able to come fight with us, the assistance is much needed and appreciated.”

Grumman said a few more words in closing before dismissing the meeting. Several soldiers hung around, wanting to ask Olivier questions, to which she obliged in answering. Miles, as the other attendants in the room made their exit, stood quietly and obediently behind her. 

“Nice speech, General,” Roy greeted her with a small smile, a friendly gesture his sharpshooter assistant also offered to the other blonde. 

Olivier gave them both a small appreciative nod, “Could I actually talk to you in private, Mustang? It’ll only be a moment.”

The man in front of her blinked twice, slightly confused, before nodding an affirmative. Riza offered to take the coat he had draped over his arm, which he handed off to her before stepping off to the side with the major general. Once they moved away, Miles started a friendly, casual conversation with her. Both he and his commander liked the Flame Alchemist’s adjutant-- she was often quiet, yet very friendly, and the three of them were all rather like-minded.

“I know what this is about, Olivier,” Roy piped up as the two got far enough out of earshot. “You finally slept with him and you wanted to thank me for the advice, right?”

She looked up to see him grinning at her, causing her calm expression to instantly turn sour, “This is important.”

“Fine, fine,” the colonel waved his hand dismissively at her. 

“Do you still have connections to those chimeras?”

Silence. Roy made eye contact with her, thinking that she was joking until he saw the dead serious look she was sending his way. 

“Uh, you’re serious?”

“What do you think, smartass?”

The man pulled a face, “It’s just that you can’t actually want to use chimeras to fight Drachma, right? You know that the attack will be highly publicized, and the fact that chimeras were created by the military is still kind of trying to be kept under wraps as much as possible.”

The blonde sighed, “I just know that there’s more underground than those that took part in the Promised Day with us. Perhaps this could give them a feeling of redemption; assisting in the liberation of the Drachman people from the extremists. I know that a lot of them hate themselves for what kind of guerilla warfare they were forced to take part in.”

Roy thought about her point for a moment, before nodding slightly, “I’ll see if I can get a hold of any of them. I’m assuming you’ll want State Alchemists involved as well?”

“If possible.”

“I’ll make some phone calls, then.”

“Thank you,” Olivier responded, running her fingers through her locks in idle thought. “I half wish there was still a homunculus around to harness their strength and regeneration abilities from. Those bastards were powerhouses.”

The alchemist chuckled, “Always looking for new advantages as always, Miss Armstrong.”

“That’s the only way we’ll stay on top of the competition,” she replied, matter-of-factly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. She turned back to the center of the room, where some officers and Grumman talked amongst themselves and their two adjutants waited, “I appreciate the cooperation.”

“You’ve always got an ally in me,” Roy responded, flashing her a smile. “I just hope my assistance will land me a spot as a groomsman--” 

“Miles, are you ready to leave?” Olivier ignored him, drawing the attention of the Ishvalan. He gave a quick goodbye to Riza as the general and colonel returned to them. 

“Yes, sir, I’m ready.”

She nodded a farewell to the first lieutenant, ignoring the colonel still, as she made her way towards where the Führer remained in deep discussion with a few members of his Cabinet. He immediately noticed her as she approached, adjutant in tow. 

“Wonderful presentation, Major General!” Grumman chimed, friendly and unprofessional as ever. He reached out a hand, happily shaking the blonde woman’s in a greeting. He smiled, “Or should I say Lieutenant General, with how many soldiers you’ll soon have in your command, eh?”

Olivier nodded slightly, shaking his hand politely, “Thank you, Führer. I suppose this means the next step in our planning will be held at your next available appointment?”

“Consider me available at your discretion! This is a matter of utmost importance, we can start tomorrow if that’s at your convenience,” the old man beamed. 

“Thank you, sir.”

Without another word, she snapped him a sharp salute, which he returned almost immediately, allowing her and her adjutant to exit. The blonde retrieved her items from her seat at the table before the pair exited the large doors of the assembly room. 

“Lieutenant General?” Miles managed to hide his utter surprise until the doors closed behind them. There were a few typical Central foot soldiers wandering the halls, but they were preoccupied with their own work, since business was going on as usual despite the important meeting that had just taken place. 

Olivier nodded, emotionless, “Don’t worry, it’s just temporary. If all goes well and everyone does their part, the things we’ll be doing require me to be one more rank up if I am to solely command the attack.”

“Don’t  _ worry _ ? Why would I worry?” The Ishvalan blinked down at the Amestrian as he walked by her side, quite curious about her word choice, “A promotion is almost always a good thing, right? Especially when you’re as high up as you are, I’m sure ascending the ranks gets more difficult.”

The blonde shrugged, her eyes closing momentarily as she did so, allowing for long eyelashes to brush cheekbones, “Lieutenant generals are required to live and work in Central, in the Führer’s Cabinet, except for times of war. If my promotion was permanent, I’d have to give command of Briggs to someone else.”

The realization hit Miles like a brick to the head, “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Olivier quickly shook her head; she knew Miles hadn’t grown up in a military family, and even his own current involvement in the army was merely by chance. He had an intuitive intelligence, and he knew a lot about protocol, but mainly only that of Briggs-- in that area, he was an expert, but he had also never worked down in Central. It was only natural, “No, it’s quite alright.”

He paused for a moment, in deep thought, before speaking up again. This time, his voice wavered slightly, as if he was nervous of her answer, “... If you could, sir, would you leave Briggs for a promotion? Whether it was to lieutenant general, three-star general, or Führer…?”

The fact that she didn’t waste a moment before shaking her head definitely served to surprise him. 

“No. Briggs needs me, plus I’d hate to become a target like that. I’d rather work from the side to make this country better rather than sit out in the open. I do hope it changes with our new government, but our old Cabinet was just full of political assassinations waiting to happen.”

He didn’t mean for his words to leave him as sassy as they did, “You  _ would _ know all about that, General.” 

She hummed the inward hint of a laugh, saying nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this chapter was late, I had been working on the TNT cover [seen above] all last week, and I had promised myself I would finish it before starting this new chapter, haha. I also apologize for it being so dialogue-heavy, but please don't hesitate to leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed.


	17. Filial Farewells and Apprehensive Allying

If the next several days went according to plan, the pair would be very busy. After a short phone conversation with Grumman’s secretary, Olivier not only scheduled four more meetings for herself within the next two days, but she was able to manage several small assemblies for her adjutant as well.

While he was more than happy to help, the thought still sent a small pang of fear into his stomach. His oncoming days would consist of discussions on the logistics side of their plan-- he was to meet with the special forces and staff commanders, in addition to several other soldiers of high importance. It was his job to essentially get all of the boots on the ground and as much machinery as possible-- and while he was used to doing such a thing at Briggs, it had always been on a much smaller scale. The last thing he wanted to do was to mess up and put more lives in danger than necessary, taking into consideration the combat circumstances.

It also meant that their paths would rarely cross during this time. The blonde general was already high-strung due to the tension that was beginning to build and linger in the air, so despite there being no current warfare, she wanted Miles as near to her as possible. Even in the few moments they would have alone in their hotel room, not many words were exchanged. Their silence, however, was comfortable, and understanding.

Miraculously, one of Olivier’s meetings was postponed an hour, and Miles did not have to leave for his until later-- yet they were already up and about. At the suggestion of the major, the pair decided to go visit Karelia.

It may have been their last time to see her, after all.

The lieutenant general and her adjutant sat cross-legged on the floor in silence as they watched the Drachman play. Her aunt and uncle had found the time to purchase some small toys for her, which she was inconceivably delighted by. She squealed and gummed her pacifier and would get excited as she showed the two soldiers a toy, not even realizing the pacifier falling out of her mouth as she babbled.

Olivier had a soft, unwavering smile as she observed. She was glad they were able to have a few minutes alone with the young royal as her family left to get some fresh air-- even the Drachmans seemed to know that the Amestrian and Ishvalan were very fond of their niece. Watching the dark-haired child, she noticed her beginning to slow down, so she leaned forward to her. Gently, she lifted Karelia from under her arms and set the baby in her lap to rest.

“Are you tired?” She asked softly, gazing down at her. While it did not surprise Karelia, Olivier’s voice served to draw her attention back up to her; blue eyes meeting. For a moment, she was briefly invigorated by her voice, so the Drachman babbled happily.

A beat passed in her baby nonsense before she finally formed a word, her small fist reaching up for a blonde curl, “Mama.”

Olivier had taken many a bullet throughout her many years as a soldier of Amestris. Obviously, none had been fatal, but each and every one was met with a sharp jolt of searing pain; worse in some places than others. Each and every one left a scar, no matter how visible.

If she could explain what she felt in that moment, she would have likened it to getting shot-- though rather than her uniform-clad figure, the bullet passed straight through her very soul. Miles saw the tears begin to well in her eyes.

“No, Karelia,” She somehow managed, preemptively wiping an eye with her uniform sleeve. “I’m not your mama, I’m sorry.”

It hurt her, deeply. It was one thing to be the cause of an innocent loss of life, but another to leave a child parentless by her own hands. She had seen the same horrors in Ishval; while her brother had bent under the guilt so much so that he was sent back to Central during combat , shameful and without honors, she felt a similar pang that he had as in his arms he held the lifeless, bloodied body of an Ishvalan boy.

She knew even back then, however, that the only way to continue was to play the game for the time being. She was not nearly a high enough rank to make a difference at the time, and if she had spoken up or refused orders, she would not be anywhere near where she was today-- and here, she had _hoped_ she would be able to make a difference.

“Olivier,” Miles spoke up, gently setting a hand on her shoulder blade, snapping her out of her sudden bombardment of racing thoughts.

The blonde woman didn’t look at him; her ice eyes remained on the Drachman, who had finally managed to gently grab a lock of her light-colored hair. She drew in a breath through her nose, shallowly, so the tearful sniff was not very audible, “It’s alright. Her aunt and uncle will be back soon, and soon she’ll be able to forget all about us, and life will go back to normal for her.”

The Ishvalan didn’t know what to say. He watched his commander in silence for a moment, attempting to think of something comforting to say-- but this time, he was useless in soothing her, because one thing rang in his mind like a bell; “ _back to normal”_.

“I’m… sorry if this isn’t a good time to bring this up,” he apologized, his lowered whisper sounding more nervous than anything. In all honesty, maybe this _was_ a good time-- perhaps it would take Olivier’s mind of off Karelia and the events surrounding their fated meeting.

Blue eyes met red as she glanced up at him. She was doing a better job of holding in her emotions this time, he noted, and while her eyes shone with tears, they nor her face were reddened; her lip not quivering.

“When we get back to Briggs, and everything goes,” he paused, considering his words once again, “back to normal. What will happen to us?”

She bat her long eyelashes twice as she understood, blinking away a few tears, “You mean with the frat laws.”

The major gave her a small, apprehensive nod in reply. He knew what he wanted; he hoped with all his heart she reciprocated.

“Why do you ask?”

He blinked, surprised with her answer.

“Unless you had other ideas, I wasn’t planning on anything changing from this point. I want to be with you, even if we must do so in secret.”

He didn’t mean to heave a very obvious sigh of relief, yet he did, which allowed Olivier to understand his reasoning for asking her such a thing. Her eyebrows furrowed very slightly, just enough to give her round face a perplexed look, “What, did you think I would want us to be a one-time deal? I’d hope that you would put more faith in me than that.”

“No, no!” Miles shook his head vigorously, raising both hands and showing her his palms in defense. “I just worry. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, and I feel it so strongly, and I just… I don’t know, I’m afraid of it ending, I suppose…”

Her expression softened in understanding. She had always been a very tightly-sealed book when it came to her emotions, and despite Miles’s in-depth knowledge of her, she supposed that even this was a new side of her he had never experienced-- it made sense for him to be unsure of her actions, even now, “I understand. You don’t have to worry about any of that.”

He smiled awkwardly, relieved, but embarrassed at himself for even entertaining the thought. He had always wanted something meaningful, though she had never mentioned a relationship even before they confessed, which aided in his uncertainty. Even so, he was glad he asked-- all of his fears concerning their connection were put to rest now.

Olivier smiled reassuringly back, gathering the now-sleeping Karelia in her arms, “Here, you take this. I’m going to have to go to my meeting.”

 _Oh_ , Miles thought. He had forgotten all about them having to separate for their own respective meetings. He took the Drachman gently as the general stood. “Right,” he murmured, watching her as she placed her hands behind her on the small of her back, stretching. “Who’s this first one with, again?”

“Well,” Olivier sighed, going over to the mirror to check herself. She slid her hands down the sides of her thighs, flattening the fabric of the uniform waist cape against them since they had wrinkled slightly as she sat, “Mustang said he was able to get a hold of some chimeras that Zampano and Jerso knew before they were sent to Briggs. It’ll be a meeting with them, and I’m definitely hoping it’ll go smoothly.”

Miles’s eyebrows knit together cautiously, holding Karelia to his strong chest. Instantly, she briefly woke from her slumber to get a small fistful of his uniform shirt before drifting back off once again. His tone was wary, “Why would you have to hope it goes smoothly? Is there a doubt about that?”

“Quite a big doubt, actually,” the blonde grumbled, straightening a shining medal that sat upon her breast. “Apparently the leader of this small chimera group is a little… radical for my own tastes. So much so that the military wanted nothing to do with them and let them escape after their creation. Thankfully, though, the pig and toad are back from their trip to Xing, so they’ll be present if anything goes awry.”

“Please be careful,” Miles replied nervously. “Why would you even want to work with them if there’s a chance that they don’t cooperate?”

Olivier turned to him and flashed him a small smirk, “Miles, you know the kind of people I tend to surround myself with, right? You’ve seen the men I’ve taken in at Briggs.”

Her answer caused a small smile to pull at the corners of his lips, though his face and tone still echoed apprehension, “I know. I trust you to know what you’re doing.”

“I haven’t let this country down yet, have I?” she chirped sarcastically.

The Ishvalan chuckled, the low rumble of his gentle laugh lulling Karelia into sleep further, “No, sir.”

  


“They’re late,” Olivier growled, her leg bouncing impatiently as she sat at the desk. Given that it was a very private meeting, they were allowed a small room with one desk and several chairs-- Roy had given her the desk, out of politeness in addition to Olivier’s current higher rank. Happily for him, the Fϋhrer agreed to move up his promotion to later this week, so that the Flame Alchemist would be a general by the time they were to set foot into Drachma. Olivier, however, would still be given overall command, given that they would be fighting in her own backyard.

“Zampano and Jerso had a bit of a ways to travel,” Roy replied, glancing down at her as he stood beside her desk. “I’m not sure about the rest of them though. Just give them a little longer, I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

She hummed a short angry response as she continued glaring at the doorway. She was honestly quite surprised that Roy hadn’t brought up her relationship with Miles again, but he _did_ know when to get serious in situations such as this one. In addition, as much as she didn’t want to bring him along, Olivier knew she needed the colonel for this sort of thing, since she knew he had more chimera and state alchemist contacts than she did. Well, contacts that were on good terms, at least.  

“So, Miles was hanging awful closely around you at that meeting with Grumman.”

The lieutenant general immediately cut him off with a very loud groan. She needed him like a hole in the head.

“What do you plan on doing?”

“What the hell does that mean?” The blonde snapped.

“Geez, don’t get all defensive,” Roy replied suspiciously, smiling mischievously. “I just wanted to know if the two of you plan on continuing what you’re doing once you get back to Briggs.”

There was no point in denying it to him. The bastard somehow knew, Olivier thought. She directed her glare at him rather than the doorway, “Why wouldn’t we?”

The man shrugged coolly, “I’d imagine it’s more difficult to keep a relationship in a harsh setting like Briggs. Or, maybe not. Maybe it can bring you guys closer together.”

His tone was immediately wicked, “You know, gotta keep warm on those freezing winter nights.”

“I hate you so much,” Olivier frowned, propping her head up on her wrist.

“Do you have any, like, end goal?”

“End goal.”

“Yeah, like marriage or something.”

The word caused the blonde to stiffen slightly, and Roy noticed, judging by how his eyebrows suddenly raised when she did so.

“I’m sorry.”

Olivier shook her head, shutting him up. It had always been an uneasy topic for her, primarily because of how her parents had treated her when she was young. The thought of marriage, while she was fond of the concept on the basis of love, struck a fearful chord within her due to the connotation that surrounded it during her youth. Marrying young, being nothing but a decoration on the arm of a wealthy man, solely to be a bearer of children. Not much caused her fear these days, and while the thought of marriage itself didn’t, the memories caused her to feel very uncomfortable and uneasy.

Nonetheless, Miles always had seemed to like the thought of it throughout the years she had known him. The general, however, chose the more pessimistic answer to give to her colleague. She had guarded her heart for so long, and this relationship with her adjutant was still so new, she was not going to lower her shield _quite_ yet.

“I don’t know what he would think of it. He probably wouldn’t want to marry me; if you’ve seen me, you know I’m not really wife material.”

She didn’t notice that Roy had been tense until she visibly saw him relax upon her speaking back up, “You never know. He seems very down-to-earth and family-oriented, and he _does_ love you.”

The general straightened up in her seat as they heard footsteps down the hall, so she swiftly ended the conversation in a hushed tone; so quick that the alchemist would not have time to formulate a reply before their guests entered, “I’ll do whatever will make him happy.”

There was a knock, and the two soldiers in the room made eye contact, an unspoken confirmation shared between them.

“Come in,” Roy announced, to which shortly after, the two chimeras they had come to know during the events of the Promised Day entered. Though they were no longer enlisted, the two still gave the colonel and general polite salutes, to which Roy nodded them to ease.

Once they got the O-K to enter, Jerso took a seat, while Zampano stepped back outside the door to signal someone else to enter.

“It’s good to see you again, General,” Jerso greeted, obviously trying to be as polite as possible. Though the chimeras had initially served as bodyguards for Kimblee, even they got their own taste of Olivier’s generic wrath while in the north, posing as her soldiers. Like many others, they still thought of her as a danger and a threat, even when on their side-- and the general preferred it that way.

She nodded slightly, “Though I wish it were under better circumstances. Thank you for coming.”

Jerso was about to speak up again when Zampano entered with a single stranger.

She was slightly more heavy-set than average, and by god did she look like a menace. She wore tactical pants laden with pockets and a rather well-taken-care-of leather jacket, very dark-skinned but with light splotches indicating vitiligo. Side-shaved hair was dyed a rather eyesore orange and she wore one of the most bored expressions Olivier had ever seen on another human being as a lit cigarette hug from between her teeth.

Jerso had immediately shut up, obviously intimidated upon her entry. While she looked like she could play the part of a tough radical as Roy had described her, the general doubted she actually had it in her.

Tension stung the air, yet Olivier remained unabashed as she eyed the stranger. She could immediately tell the type of person she was just by looking at her-- she thought she was all that, and Olivier loathed those kinds of people. She sneered slightly, already not fond of this chimera, “Smoking isn’t allowed in this building, ma’am.”

She took her cigarette from her mouth, and puffed out some smoke, “Oops.”

Olivier’s frown worsened as the chimera replaced the cigarette where it once was. The blonde wouldn’t stand for this disrespect, so the general motioned her over. Complying, the dark-skinned woman took a few steps over to her desk and leaned closer, where Olivier calmly lifted a hand and pinched the end of the cigarette without even a flinch, plucking it from the chimera’s lips. Roy watched, used to this behavior, yet the other two chimeras in the room watched wide-eyed, already sweating bullets.

“What’s your name,” Olivier spoke lowly, glaring daggers.

It had no effect on the chimera, who glared back, “Silq.”

“Charmed,” the general said, deadpan. “Like the fabric. Something tells me you don’t think you’re near as soft as silk, though.”

The chimera snorted, straightening as she stood in front of the desk, “Can we get on with this? I’ve got shit to do.”

“What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than what I’m going to ask you?” The blonde frowned once again, tone dripping with sarcasm as she adjusted some papers on her desk. “I called the three of you in here today to discuss a very pressing matter. Drachma, as you may or may not have heard, is in ruin under the rule of a rebel force that usurped the throne from the monarchs of the old regime. Life is currently hell under them, as reported by multiple spies we have stationed in the area, but we have a counter to this.”

Zampano and Jerso seemed to have calmed down significantly, though Silq still wore her same uninterested expression.

“We have the infant daughter of the old Czar, and we plan to infiltrate the country to take it back from the rebels, reinstating her as the ruling monarch under the guidance of her surviving aunt and uncle. We’ll need all the help we can get to add to our firepower,” she looked between the three of them, her gaze finally resting on Silq. “I’ve been told you have some military experience as well.”

Silq humphed, crossing her arms across her chest with a scowl, “I left the military for a reason after I was turned into a chimera. Too many rules and too much honor for my tastes; they gave me this ability and took me from the life I had-- I may as well bite the hand that feeds me if I’m not satisfied with that I’m being fed.”

Olivier remembered what Roy had discussed with her about the homunculus Greed before he had taken over the body of the Xingese emperor. For the time being, she really just wanted to get a good feel of who she was up against, “Did you ever know the chimeras at the Devil’s Nest in Dublith? They seem like they would have been your kind of people.”

“You mean Greed’s _pets_ ,” brown eyes narrowed. “I was invited to join them, since I had been in a similar guerilla program, but I wasn’t about to be a guard dog for some immortal jackass who thought he had the right to own me.”

“Understandable, truly,” the lieutenant general sat back in her seat. “So, what do you do, if I may ask?”

Silq shrugged, leather scrunching as she did so, “If I told you that, hon, you’d arrest me.”

The blonde’s eye twitched, choosing to ignore the severe informality. “Okay,” she began again, slowly, calculating, “If you helped us with this, I would gladly have whatever criminal record you have wiped clean, given that you don’t do anything else in the future warranting it to be dirtied again.”

The short laugh caused Olivier to blink once; she hadn’t been expecting that.

“I’d rather stay living underground for the rest of my life than rejoin the military, even for a day,” Silq smirked. “I may do a lot of unsavory things, but what you dogs did in Ishval, I could never forgive. Especially you,” she leaned forward, though Olivier did not move an inch.

“I know your type. You’re an Armstrong, right? Raised on affluence and wealth, I’m sure you got this handed to you after you bat those pretty eyelashes of yours to the right people, huh?” she tapped a finger on the star that sat upon the lieutenant general’s shoulder. Out of the corner of her blue eyes, Olivier noticed Roy tense as he shoved a hand in his pocket, ready to retrieve his alchemical gloves.

“You people never care for anyone but yourselves, I’m sure you sat by filing your nails as you watched Ishval unravel before you, babe.”

The general stood, the sheer speed sending her chair tumbling backwards. Even the chimera was taken aback slightly as the general was instantly an inch from her face, their noses almost touching.

If asked about it after the fact, Jerso and Zampano would admit that they couldn’t hear the blonde’s voice due to how starkly her voice had lowered, and while Roy heard the threat that wasn’t even addressed to him, the sheer sound sent a chill down his spine.

“What kind of animal are you mixed with?”

Silq blinked, momentarily forgetting, “A gila monster.”

“Perfect, I was needing a new pair of boots. Call me babe again and I’ll be walking around with you on my feet, _bitch_ .” She roughly jabbed her index finger into the chimera’s sternum, “You, nor anyone else in this room, knows what I’ve gone through. You think this rank was easy for me to achieve? I had to work harder than any _man_ since no one had any faith in me. I may have been bred to be a fragile trophy wife, but I can guarantee you with every _fibre of my being_ that my true purpose is to defend this country. I learned that long ago when I made the sole decision to pledge my life to this military. I’m doing this _because_ I don’t want there to be another War of Extermination. Innocent lives were lost, and it’s going to happen again if we don’t do something. Drachman farmers are burning _their own_ crops and children are being trained to serve as _cannon fodder_. Do you understand me?”

Silq searched her eyes for a long moment until everyone simultaneously felt the tension lift from the room. Slowly, her smirk returned, though this time it wasn’t full of devilry. It seemed more impressed than anything, “Alright, general. I like you, so I’ll bite. What is it that you need me to do?”

Olivier straightened, dropping her hand. “Getting anyone you know willing to fight will help. A spy of ours informed me that the rebel government has been dabbling in a crude form of alchemy, and he’s seen a few strange shadows looming in the alleys of the capitol. Have you fought other chimeras before?”

Silq chuckled, “It’s a dog-eat-dog-world in the undergound, ma’am, we’ve all had our fair share of violence against our own kind. Do you know what kind of chimeras these shadows are?”

“I didn’t know there were specific kinds,” Olivier replied, genuinely. She knew there were obviously some differences between them-- for example, those that had assisted in the Promised Day had human forms that underwent transformations, while others were fully animalistic.

Silq nodded. “You’ve got the more refined military-grade bunch like me and the peanut gallery,” she jabbed a thumb towards the other two chimeras in the room, “then the guys in Dublith who, for the most part, had no transformation but animal characteristics and abilities as far as I know. Lastly, there’s the full-animal ones who are all as smart as dirt. If we’re talking as crude of alchemy as it gets, it’s probably the latter.”

“I see,” Olivier said, jotting down a few things on one of the papers in front of her. “If that’s the case--”

“I don’t know about the rest of my crew, but you’ve got me to back you up. I was a teenager when the civil war happened, and I lost a very good friend of mine to it,” she said, her brown eyes momentarily flicking to the floor. Despite this, her tone didn’t waver, “Plus, if kids really _are_ being put on the front lines, I ain’t gonna stand for that. That kinda shit gets me mad.”

The blonde woman nodded, eyes glued on the papers below her, “If you’re a go, then, I’ll keep in touch and have you updated when any new plans are made. Will you be fine in the cold?”

Silq nodded, “Should be fine if I don’t transform until we get there. I’m cold-blooded but these pants have lots of places to hold hand warmers if needed, I’ve done that before in the winters here.”

Olivier nodded once more, tearing off a piece of paper and handing it to the chimera, “This is the extension for the office phone I will be using during my stay here. Let me know if anything changes, and for the love of god if you give it out--”

Silq waved her hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”

“Alright, then,” the general spoke, glancing up at Roy, “did you have anything else?”

He shook his head, arms crossed over his own chest once again. Olivier didn’t even notice him remove his hand from his pocket.

She gave the chimeras all one single dismissive nod, “We’ll keep in touch, then. Jerso, Zampano, please fill in your friend with everything Colonel Mustang told you about.”

“Yes, sir!” The two snapped up into attention, then each a quick salute. The general waved them at ease, and as quickly as the three had entered, they exited, Silq retrieving an unlit cigarette from her pocket as the door shut behind her.

Olivier immediately closed her eyes and heaved a sigh once the soldiers were alone once again, earning a concerned glance from Roy, “You sure this is a good idea, Olivier?”

Icy blue eyes opened and took one final look at the closed door, “I know Drachma, Roy. We’re going to need all the help we can get in order to reduce the number of lives lost on both sides.”

“I trust you,” the colonel mused, “I just know how you tend to take risks in these sort of situations.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for this update being so late. I've just been so very busy and, if I'm being honest, very self-conscious about my writing. I also apologize for this kind of being a big OC party, and I hope you can look past that. There's just character spots I need to fill where no canon character really can, so I hope you understand and maybe even enjoy Silq. I know several of you enjoyed the Briggs boys and I'm eternally grateful for that. Silq won't have too big of a part in tnt, similar to the others, so you shouldn't have to worry about that if it's a concern.  
> I know I'm rambling haha;; I just worry a lot about this stuff. Either way, I hope you continue to enjoy despite this chapter being kind of eh. I haven't been real big on writing recently just because of my busyness and my moods and so on, so I'll try a lot harder for the next chapter to be better than this one. 
> 
> Above is Silq concepts if anyone's interested
> 
> Thank you


	18. Not all Scars are Physical

Olivier hadn’t noticed she had fallen asleep until the quiet creak of Miles entering the room woke her. She sat up in the bed with a start-- still fully in uniform, several papers flying off her chest as she did so. As her eyes focused, she noticed her adjutant, hand still on the doorknob, back bent slightly as if he was attempting to sneak. His red gaze was widened in moderate surprise, “Oh, shoot. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you--”

The general shook her head quickly, only just now realizing how tangled her long hair was after sleeping on it so carelessly, “No, it’s fine, really.”

The Ishvalan gave her the small hint of a smile as he stepped out of his boots and shut the door, making his way over to her. He was obviously trying to hide the tiredness in his voice by sounding as friendly and chipper as possible; yet Olivier knew him, and she easily heard the exhaustion on his lips, “I was going to let you sleep, but since you're awake-- how did your day go?”

She grabbed the brush she had left on her bedside table that morning and began to work out the tangles, eyes half-lidded and muddled by sleep, “It was alright. I’m exhausted, though.”

“I can relate,” Miles said, removing his uniform shirt and hanging it up. Olivier’s blue irises immediately locked onto the tight military-grade thermal undershirt he wore as he returned to her, “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course not,” she moved over to make room for him. Though she honestly did not mind the newly-found informality between them, he had always been polite, even when not in working situations.

“Would you like help?”

She paused for a moment, taking a brief second to fully register what he meant, “With my hair…?”

“Yes, sir,” he flashed her a beam that _still_ served to bring heat to the general’s cheeks; he was just _beautiful_.

Olivier did not quite know how to respond. She was fully capable of getting the tangles out herself, but…

“Sure. If you want, I mean.”

Miles’s reply was the holding out of his hand, to which she handed him the brush, “I’d be happy to. Here, can you move in front of me?”

Nodding, the blonde did so, carefully removing her own uniform shirt as well. She loathed it whenever she fell asleep in her uniform, since everything would often get very wrinkled and mussed up, making more for her to iron later, thus more work that could otherwise be avoided. She set it aside before moving all of the hair that spilled over her shoulders to her back, where it would be easier to get to.

“Tell me more about your day. How were the meetings?” Her adjutant’s voice was gentle, with the hint of a smile lingering.

She felt his knuckles brush the back of her neck as he gathered her long, blonde curls, moving the brush through them as carefully as possible despite the knots, “The chimera meeting went… Okay. I don’t really care for Zampano and Jerso’s contact, but she said she was willing to join us.”

“Do you think it’s safe to bring her?” Miles questioned, muttering an apology as he misjudged a tangle and the brush tugged slightly.

“I’ll schedule a few more discussions before we actually head back out to Briggs so I can get a more accurate feel for her personality and motives. If I still mistrust her as much as I do now, I won’t hesitate to cancel her involvement,” Olivier closed her eyes, relaxedly.

The Ishvalan nodded, “That sounds good to me. Yet, I’ve got to say, I’m surprised you decided on enlisting the help of chimeras in the first place.”

“Well, you know I don’t condone the use of military experiments that utilize human lives.”

He hummed an affirmative.

“The chimeras cannot be restored to their original state, and if they must live with their mutations, might as well make them useful-- and in the use of their abilities, I hope to be able to give some of them a better life, if possible. Many, if not all of them, live underground, but they retain their humanity just as we do. I want to give them the option of returning to their normal lives, if they want it, and in order to do that I’ll need a very public way of vindicating them. Of course, given that they _are_ suitable for public life once again.”

Miles smiled faintly, “I see. And afterwards, you spoke with your brother and Roy about the alchemists, right?”

“Briefly, yes,” the general sighed. “Alex won’t be coming because he has several more pressing assignments here in Central, plus I personally don’t want this to be another repeat of what happened in Ishval.”

Miles blinked, pausing his brushing, “When he broke down?”

She nodded very slightly as to not move her head too much, being mindful of her partner as he worked, “I know we’re fighting for reasons very different to those in Ishval, but I don’t think he’ll be in the right state of mind if he sees what the rebels have been doing to the Drachman citizens, especially with their militant training of the children.”

“I understand,” he rid her of another tangle. “And the others?”

“Roy’s with us for certain, he’s put a hold on all prior engagements. He told me he got a hold of Alphonse just to test the waters with him and see where he stands, but he’s still in Xing studying Alkahestry.”

“Pity,” Miles spoke. “He could get some useful practice with the healing properties of Alkahestry if he were to serve as a field medic of sorts for this one time. I understand, though, he’s not in the military _plus_ he’s still so young, like Edward.”

“Apparently, that Xingese princess Mei Chang was in the room when Alphonse was speaking with Roy, and when she overheard, _she_ wanted to come and fight.”

The major chuckled softly, “That sounds like her.”

He had made his way up to near the top of Olivier’s head, so she refrained from nodding; instead humming an agreement. With a gentle hand, he casually ran his fingers through her locks, “There, I think I got them all.”

The Amestrian failed to stifle a shudder, earning a warm laugh from the man behind her, “Are you alright?”

She nodded vigorously, not turning to look at him. Instead, she directed her attention to the sheets below her, low-key very embarrassed. He, in mirth, smirked to himself and stroked her hair once again, “Want me to braid it?”

Blue irises glanced up at the clock on the wall to check the time and confirm that she wouldn’t have to go out again for the remainder of the day. She obviously hadn’t realized it as she slept, but the sky outside was now dark, and it was rather late in the evening. She would be safe from the public eye; she wouldn’t be caught dead without her signature long, curled hair in public.

Seeing her give a small nod, he began, “You had one more face-to-face meeting with Grumman, too, correct?”

“Yes, basically just a few last discussions. We decided that we will be heading back to Briggs in three days, given that the meetings are all going to continue to go as smoothly as they’ve been. I informed him of the assemblies you and I would be having over the course of today and tomorrow, and he seemed pleased,” she paused in consideration. “You haven’t told me how _your_ day went.”

Miles shrugged, “Same as yours, I suppose. Tiring, but okay for the most part. Took a little convincing to get a few of the older servicemen I talked to to actually listen to me since I’m Ishvalan, but in the end it all worked out.”

The blonde’s tone did not change, “Tell them I’ll kick their ass if they continue with that attitude.”

“I’m sure they’re aware of your wrath, sir,” the major replied amusedly. “I met with one of the staff commanders, as you asked of me. He told me he could send up two more brigades from East plus two battalions from West and one from North to add to our count of two-thousand combat-ready Briggs men. He said hostilities on the Aerugan front are getting worse, so he can’t spare any men from South, with his regrets.”

Olivier took a moment to calculate, “So, at the least, we’ll have around six-thousand men. That’s not awful, considering the circumstances. I spoke with Stryker for a few minutes today, and he told me that they’re already increasing production and conducting small tests on the tanks. He hopes to have around a hundred-and-fifty.”

“I would feel safer with more,” Miles sighed.

“So would I, but that’s not too bad of a number given that we didn’t start mass production until now, and they only recently passed the prototype stage with their use in the Promised Day.”

Her adjutant thought for a moment, attempting for his tone to sound as lighthearted and optimistic as possible, “Plus one State Alchemist and one chimera are equal to multiple men, especially someone like Roy who’s worth a hundred. I think we’ll do okay.”

“I hope,” Olivier’s voice softened, deep in thought. She felt Miles tie off the end of the long braid; she never carried hair ties with her, but she knew he always had multiples on him at all times.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good,” she spoke, distracted, still doing calculations in her head. What snapped her out of her self-induced trance, however, was the Ishvalan’s arms wrapping around her, tightly, yet fondly. He pulled her closer until he was able to rest his chin atop her head; Olivier plunged into a flustered silence, her cheeks a deep red.

“Please don’t worry,” he murmured as he held her. “Like you said, considering the circumstances, I think we’re doing pretty well for ourselves. I’m going to go ahead and change, do you want me to get you your clothes as well?”

She nodded quickly again, yet truthfully, she didn’t want to move. Never in her life did she think she would grow to love the touch of another person as much as she did in this moment.

Her heart involuntarily sank somewhat as she felt Miles let go of her, the mattress raising slightly as his weight was removed once he stood. As he made his way over to where they had organized their clothes, Olivier reached back to feel the braid, quite surprised at how well-done it was, “It feels like you did a really good job. I didn’t know you could braid hair.”

He shrugged, the muscles on his back visible as he removed his shirt to change; it went unspoken between them, but Olivier was thankful that the two of them were already completely comfortable with one another-- especially since they had been so close for so long, even prior to their visit to Central.

“I used to braid my sisters’ hair a lot when we were younger. I didn’t have many friends my age, so I generally was more comfortable around them,” he smiled to himself, though the warm expression was hidden from his general as his back was turned to her. “We spent a lot of time together, I would even let them dress me up. We didn’t have a lot, so the dress clothes they had, they would just pile all on me at once. I’d parade around in an old pair of heels that were far too big for my feet just to make them laugh, and they’d steal our mother’s makeup and put it on me.”

Olivier chuckled softly, imagining, “How old were you?”

“Ten,” He responded as he finished changing. The pair had been conditioned to sleeping in the harsh, freezing temperatures of Fort Briggs, so every time they travelled to Central, it would take them a few nights to figure out what sort of clothes would be best to sleep in. This time, however, they shared the room, so a few laughs were had as they attempted to discover the perfect combination so that they weren’t too cold or too warm together.

While the temperatures in the north had begun to grow colder for Autumn, the drop in temperature had not quite achieved the same grasp on Central as it had at Briggs; especially given Central’s better and more reliable heating systems, so they still had the luxury of sleeping with light clothing. The major looked back to his commander, showing her some of her own sleep clothes, “Are these okay?”

She nodded, “Ten, huh? How old were your sisters?”

Miles returned to the bedside, handing her the clothing, “Twelve and five. Our mother worked a lot, so it was kind of my job to watch them.” He grinned somewhat, “Even though I wasn’t the eldest, I was the most mature.”

“I know how that goes,” Olivier mused as she stood, shedding her clothing. “But I’m pretty sure you know all about _my_ childhood that there is to tell. You’ve never been one to talk about yours.”

The Ishvalan sat down on the mattress, watching her, “I’ll tell you more if you tell me about all of your scars.”

Olivier paused, her sleep shirt only half on as she glanced back at him, “Why would you want to know about those?”

She had never been the kind to be embarrassed by them; they were the natural wear of being in a field such as hers. While she never thought of them as something to be glorified, she was steadfast in the belief that they should be respected.

Miles smiled gently at her, getting comfortable on the bed as he propped his head up to gaze at her, “Each of them tell a story, even if it’s not a very interesting one. You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to, I’d understand.”

“I don’t mind,” the blonde continued, craning her head to glance over her shoulder. “That large raised one was from an altercation I had at the Academy.”

White eyebrows furrowed, “That huge one? What happened?”

“A guy was mouthing off and I punched him before he pushed me out the window, there was glass everywhere.”

“And then..?”

“I fell on some, but thankfully, it was a class where most of the cadets were on my side, and I had a lot of witnesses saying that he started it, so I didn’t get in trouble. There were several times like that where I got into small fights just because someone was jealous that a young woman was getting better scores than them.”

“I see,” Miles trailed off, his red eyes moving along her frame, “And that one on your thigh?”

“The first aerosani prototype we had ever made exploded,” the general chuckled. “It was honestly laughable, the thing looked fine, but the moment we switched it on, it was done for.”

“Doesn’t sound very laughable by the look of that scar,” he smiled nervously as the general finished getting dressed, sitting back down beside him.

“I mean, I was furious when it happened, it’s only laughable now,” she laid down, facing him. “Speaking of, how’s _your_ thigh?”

“It’ll probably scar over, too,” the major murmured, absentmindedly running his palm over where he had been shot. “Hopefully not too noticeably, I’m not as comfortable with my scars as you are. I feel like they make me look ugly.”

It was Olivier’s turn to furrow her brows, “Why would you ever think that?”

Miles’s gaze lowered, and his reply was the smallest of shrugs.

“Listen, I’m not one to glorify and admire scars, but there’s something to be said about them defining you in a way. They show what hardships you’ve gone through, yes, but they also show what you have survived,” she spoke, her voice soft as she moved closer to him. “They urge you to continue forward, no matter what happens.”

She searched his eyes, still downturned, until he gently took her hand in his. Curious, Olivier watched, remaining silent as he studied her knuckles, still reddened and rough as they had scabbed over.

He gently brushed his thumb over them, and in that moment, the lieutenant general wished she could read his mind. Her adjutant seemed very obviously troubled, but by what, she could not tell. Finally, he smiled, though it was not a positive one-- “I’ve been called ugly my whole life.”

The Amestrian opened her mouth to speak, but Miles quietly cut her off, “My blood isn’t near pure, and I was never accepted in either the Amestrian or Ishvalan community. If I was in Amestris, I was Ishvalan scum, and if I was in Ishval, I was bastardized as a mutt whose very existence defiled the Ishvalan faith. I recognize now that none of that was my fault, and it was the product of heightened political tensions on both sides, but…”

He trailed off, and Olivier gently took her hand from him. Offering him a gentle, loving touch, her hand softly met with his jawline, drawing his attention back to her, “I know the opinion of one person doesn’t amount to that of a whole community, but never forget that you’ve not once been anything but beautiful to me.”

To her surprise, Miles rumbled a soft laugh, causing the woman to blush in embarrassment, withdrawing her hand, “You know I’m the worst person in the world when it comes to comforting people, Miles, don’t laugh!”

At once, she was gathered up in his arms again, this time in a tight hug as he held her against his chest. He still had the happy warmth of a laugh as he beamed down at her, “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Olivier glanced away, still aware of his amused look as she attempted to retain her serious and unfeeling demeanor. A few moments passed as he gazed at her lovingly, the blonde bashfully avoiding his red gaze.

“Olivier,” He said suddenly, and while his tone and face were still playful for the most part, her call of attention caused the general to believe that her assistant was going to say something important, so she turned her blue eyes back up to him.

“I don’t want to risk losing you in this fight,” he continued, his dark complexion growing a shade more serious. “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if something happens.”

Initially, the general blinked in surprise, yet this time, Olivier’s gentle smile was her reply, “You can’t let the fear of loss be a handicap, Miles. Believe me, I feel the same way-- but in life, there’s things we must do that will test our mortality, and especially in the military, we have to accept that.”

He still seemed unconvinced, so she straightened slightly, nudging his cheek with her nose affectionately. This earned her the smallest twinkle of a smile from him.

“Nothing will happen to me, and nothing will happen to you. We’ll both be fine, and we’ll succeed in liberating the Drachman people from the extremists. Okay?”

Though she knew there was no way for her to be positive, and he was aware of this, Miles still nodded. He bent slightly and kissed her briefly, even if just for his own solace, though Olivier smiled as he did so. After a moment, he stopped to speak up again, nervous and unsure, “What will we do if everything goes according to plan and we both live? Will we inform Briggs about us? What if Grumman hasn’t modified the fraternization laws yet like Roy said he would?”

All joviality and affection drained from Olivier’s face as her expression regained her typical stoicism. She looked deep into his eyes, straight into his soul.

“If we both survive, we’ll get married.”

Miles couldn’t hide his beam at her words, his dark face mostly successful in hiding his happy bloom, “Yes, Lieutenant General.”

She hadn’t expected him to react so strongly as he began planting kisses all over her face, absolutely radiant. She smiled mirthfully as she was kissed until their lips eventually met once again, and they continued reveling in their shared adoration, for what they knew may be their last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a bit shorter than normal, but I feel like it was a little better than the last one. It's mainly just me describing what I skipped over in the form of fluff :')
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy, and please leave a comment or kudos if you did.


	19. Armament

More quickly than they would have liked, the time soon came for them to depart. As soldiers arrived in Central from the neighboring regions of Amestris and shipments of supplies began their journey to North, the lieutenant general and her adjutant made their goodbyes.

While Olivier said a brief and uncaring farewell to her family members over the phone-- she didn’t care to talk with them for any greater length of time-- her and Miles made it an explicit point to go by the Drachmans' room for one final time. Miles spoke with Alexei and Valera about exactly what would be done once they crossed the border to their homeland and how they would go about securing the capitol; Olivier sitting with Karelia in her lap as their discussion continued. She was silent for the majority of their meeting as she stared down at the child, her expression unreadable, causing the Kozhurovs to grow nervous as to why. However, after explaining to them in a hushed tone why his commander was acting so strangely, the couple understood. The Amestrian woman had grown to care deeply for the Drachman Czarevna; even beginning to view her as her own prior to the Briggs rescue of the royal’s kin. While Miles had felt a similar way since the start of their journey, he was aware that there was no way he would ever be able to tell how deeply his general was hurting. While he took great pride in the idea that he knew her like the back of his hand (as Briggs soldiers would often say), he also knew very well that, even with their walls down to one another, she was still and always would be the most supreme of mysteries to him.

Unfortunately, their goodbyes were cut short as they hurried to make their train bound north. Several battalions would be sent up by train each day, not all at once, so Briggs could continue to prepare before being flooded with servicemen. Olivier and Miles were on the first train that departed; they personally would be overseeing the last final preparations and making sure everything was in order before the time for them to strike was upon them.

Though the train was packed nearly full of soldiers, the Briggs officers were able to find what may have been the last vacant compartment, allowing them privacy. Just as their journey down to Central had been, the pair only briefly spoke about what would occur in the coming days, preferring simple friendly conversation in lieu of having to think deeply on more depressing and dire things. They spoke softly to one another as they sat side-by-side, and when Olivier began to doze off, Miles gently wrapped an arm around her and held her close. As she rested her head against his shoulder, he would turn his head to her and bury his nose in her hair, quietly offering words of love and affection to her as she drifted off.

 

They arrived at North City without a moment to rest; Briggs transport vehicles already present and awaiting their arrival. After the contents of the train were emptied, including both supplies and passengers, Olivier organized them and split the servicemen off into groups. Alpha through Delta would accompany her and her adjutant to the fort while the remaining soldiers, a significantly smaller group, since more men would be arriving shortly, would be ordered to start setting up shop in North. This way, the city would be serving as a waypoint in the event that the forces were pushed back to Amestris and Briggs was overrun.

After the orders were made, the general and her assistant were to board a transporter bound for their snowy fortress. Olivier, however, did not expect Colonel Stryker to be among those to greet them in North.

The young soldier snapped her a salute as the pair neared the large truck, “Lieutenant General Armstrong!”

The blonde woman blinked as she was caught slightly off-guard, not having planned on seeing him until they reached Briggs, “At ease, Colonel. Is everything alright?”

He dropped his salute and began to open the back of the truck, “Yes and no. There’ve been no direct attacks yet, but Drachma is definitely preparing for something. We’ve had scouts run into a few small parties of them skulking about, and so far we’ve only suffered a few injuries from their scuffles, but no deaths on our side. One small group was found attempting to plant some explosives at the base of a nearby mountain, seems like they were going to attempt to start an avalanche.”

The general made a displeased noise, lips pursed, “I don’t like that.”

“Which is why I’ve upped the training and drills everyone is having to do, sir. If we don’t strike first soon, they absolutely will,” the colonel said carefully, opening the large doors for them. “Production on the tanks has come to a close, and at this point we’re just testing them all. I hope that’s alright?”

“You’ve done all you can do,” Olivier replied, watching as her adjutant hoisted himself up into the truck. He held his gloved hand out to her, which she took before he gently pulled her up inside the vehicle with him. She flashed him a grateful look before turning her eyes back down to Stryker, “Come join us, we have things to discuss.”

He nodded, hopping up into the bed of the truck and pulling the doors shut. They all took their seats as the driver up front started the engine, the vehicle roaring to life before slowly crawling forward.

“We’ve got alchemists and chimeras coming to aide us,” Olivier immediately began the conversation, making eye contact with the colonel. He looked awfully tired, with bags around his eyes, but it was nothing unfamiliar to the way the general had felt for nearly every day of her working life.

“Chimeras,” Stryker’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Is that safe?”

Olivier huffed what sounded somewhat like a laugh, “No. But they will be very useful to us, especially if Drachma tries to use theirs. I’ve spoken with one, and while I didn’t trust her in the slightest initially, I think we’ll be alright. I trust you all to turn on her or any others if they decide they don’t want to fight for Amestris any longer, however.”

The colonel nodded, “Anything else I need to be caught up on?”

Eyelashes brushed her cheekbones, her eyes momentarily turned down in thought, “Not that I can immediately think of. There will be no formal declaration of war since there is no government we recognize to declare it to, yet an informal spoken one will be made by Grumman so that the Drachman citizens have time to evacuate or take shelter. I will not tolerate the unnecessary killing of those not involved, if at all possible, and I _will_ make sure all of our men are made aware of that. I will not hesitate to charge war crimes.”

Stryker nodded once again, eyebrows now furrowed, sharply aware of how serious his general was. Olivier Armstrong did not throw around rhetoric like ‘war crimes’ lightly, “I understand.”

The blonde woman nodded shortly, ending their conversation. On their drive to the fort, Stryker relayed all of the statistics to her-- how many men were already at the fort, how many would be sent down to North and Central to evacuate, how many weapons they had, and so forth. Their discussion, however, ended the moment the truck slowed to a heavy stop.

Immediately, Olivier could tell what a frantic state Briggs was in; even the air itself was tense as soldiers ran back and forth, full of haste and worry. Several tanks were being rolled out to the empty land between North and Briggs for field tests, as well as aerosani sped across the winter landscape, spraying snow behind them as their swift driving was practiced. There was a steady flow of both trucks and thick-bodied horses as supplies were carted back and forth, all while innumerable splotches of blue and gray scattered across the expanse of white as soldiers in both dress blues and arctic camouflage carried out their given orders. All the chaos lacked was the blaring of the emergency sirens to be considered a real emergency.

“Looks like everyone’s gone mad,” the woman grumbled, half to herself.

“I suppose we’ve got a lot of work to do,” the Ishvalan beside her sighed defeatedly, running his fingers through his white hair.

Olivier, on the other hand, did not reply. While she was aware that they would be dreading the few coming days, she knew the rush was necessary-- plus, the adrenaline going through the bodies of her soldiers would be useful in the event that Drachma attacked early. Hopefully, she thought, with her guidance returned to the fort, order would be restored at no cost to the outpost’s efficiency-- while there was no way of being fully prepared for warfare due to combat’s malleable and ever-changing circumstances, she could only ever hope that her servicemen could be as ready as possible, and ready for anything, for that matter.

 

As Miles unpacked their belongings, Olivier took a walk around the fort-- though this time, it brought her no comfort. Walks had always been a calming source to her, yet this trying time did not offer her such leisures. Instead, she took this time to inspect the current goings-on of Fort Briggs, primarily the work on the fortifying of the great wall. In Central, she had instructed Stryker to start strengthening and securing every aspect of the wall on the northern side, in addition to beginning construction of mobile barricades that would later be transported to Drachma with them.

She padded along the barrier of the fortress, her small footsteps near silent crunches in the snow amongst the bustle of the men around her. She craned her neck to look up at the wall, hands crossed neatly behind her. More sheets of metal were being welded to the existing ones by soldiers and engineers that hung suspended from the roof and propped up by large ladders. The sparks that flew from the process, while the color of fire when witnessed up-close, brightened the wall with a white light from where the lieutenant general stood.

She stood on in silence, for once gazing up at her wall from below rather than ascended to its peak. On her life, she would not let Briggs fall.

“General,” A familiar male voice spoke softly from behind her, causing Olivier to turn and see Ivanov. He smiled gently at her, also looking very tired-- though the general was sure that recovering from such a grave injury took a great amount of strength and time, thus the bags under his own eyes were nothing unnatural.

“Captain,” she greeted, giving him a small nod. “You seem to be getting around better, how are you feeling?”

He sighed softly, his single-eyed gaze roaming to the snow beneath them, “Regretful, sir. I wish I could stay here and help you.”

Olivier shook her head, “Don’t worry about any of that. If you want to make yourself useful, you can help Miller while he heals. I’ll be sending off you and everyone else involved in the infiltration down to Central so you can be safe-- those men need time to recuperate, especially after what all happened.”

The young soldier nodded, giving her no complaints, “When will we be leaving, sir?”

“Tomorrow,” the blond spoke decisively. “In the morning, so it would be wise to go ahead and pack. I had Stryker inform the others so they should be doing the same.”

“Would you like me to do anything else for you?”

She shook her head once again, “Just rest up yourself and make sure everyone else does as well. Business will start back up as usual once this whole thing blows over.”

Ivanov knew her optimism was but a front, yet he still snapped her a respectful salute before spinning on his heels and padding away; not once having to balance himself against the wall as he had been doing just a few weeks prior.

 

In a way, business _was_ back to normal-- Olivier once again had stacks of papers littering her desk. She did notice, however, that despite there being countless forms and sheets of information of the table, that Stryker had very politely cleaned up the rest of her office. He did not have the rank and authority to do her paperwork for her, so she supposed he kept himself busy by keeping everything tidy; even her small table for coffee was fully and beautifully organized. She knew it was probably not totally a selfless act, since the colonel was still very young, the exact age the flame alchemist had ascended to the rank, to be precise. Yet, unlike Roy, who was confident and cool in his work, Stryker, while poised, was eager to show his worth through his actions. He had considered it the utmost privilege to be serving at Briggs, and he wanted to make sure he was ever-helpful and spot-on in his work. Like many others, he wanted to secure his place as a Briggs Bear, which was an honor few were ever wholly recognized as.

She was attempting to get at least a portion of her paperwork done as preparations momentarily slowed down at the fort. In all honesty, what this meant was that she was simply working through her meal breaks, since her typical working hours were consumed by more drills and inspections in a week’s time than a whole two month’s put together.

Miles had been staying by her side at almost all times, save for when she ordered him to go do a specific job, but he was now resting up in his own bunk. He had just delivered some lunch to his general when she noticed him wobble and nearly tip over as he cleared her doorway, so she sternly told him to go and sleep. She knew how tired the two of them were-- since they returned from Central, the two of them had been sleeping in Olivier’s room. Because of this, Olivier was aware that he was going to bed around the same time as her, and waking up almost just as early, resulting in only a few measly hours rest every night.

She felt her own eyelids growing heavy when there was a soft knock at the door. Blinking rapidly, she attempted to clear the drowsiness from her gaze as she lifted her head, “Come in.”

At first, she was surprised to see Cordova silently step inside, until she remembered a moment later that she had specifically requested for him to come see her.

He calmly-- almost nervously, given his normal demeanor-- saluted her, yet she waved him at ease, “Thank you for coming in, Major.”

The other blonde nodded slightly

“Could you do something for me?” Olivier questioned, reaching into one of the drawers on the inside of her desk.

“Yes, sir,” was Cordova’s dutiful reply, his eyes watching her hand as it disappeared inside, only to momentarily be brought back out again, holding a necklace.

The young man spoke before Olivier had a chance to, his voice low and forlorn, “That was Aksel’s…”

Olivier nodded, holding it out to him. Without needing to be summoned over, the major stepped up to her desk, retrieving it. “He told me his mother gave it to him. It was his father’s,” he murmured, gazing at it, crestfallen.

“Would you take it to her?” The woman asked, propping her head up on her wrist and tilting it slightly. “She lives in a small town not far from Central, but I was too caught up with war preparations to reach out to her while I was there.”

Cordova blinked at her as if it took him a moment to process her words, “Oh, um, actually, General…”

Olivier raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to go to Central. I want to stay here and fight,” he continued, his soft voice filled with a resolve the general had not once thought she would ever hear from the young soldier.

“Hm, what makes you think I’d let you disobey orders like that?” Olivier immediately questioned, tilting her head to the other side, testing him.

While he did seem sheepish for a moment due to her sudden and sharp reply, he remarkably recovered with surprising speed, “I want to fight for Aksel. He was my only friend here, and I know he would ask the same of you, sir. I’m able-bodied, I have no reason to go down to Central.”

She held his gaze for a moment, eyes narrowed, searching his own for any remorse for his words. She wanted to see if he was going to backpedal and step down from his request, yet he did not falter, and she took note.

“Please, General Armstrong.”

“Fine, but I had better not see you freeze up out there,” Olivier straightened in her seat. “You know, half of the men in the Amestrian army would be clamoring for a chance out of combat not unlike the free pass I’m offering you.”

“But I’m a Briggs soldier, sir,” was Cordova’s soft, unperturbed response.

Olivier felt the corners of her lips turn up in a pleased smirk, “You should’ve just said that first, you would’ve had me convinced.”

The major returned her smile slightly, carefully shoving the necklace into his pocket, “I’ll give this to Miller and Foster, if that’s alright.”

“I trust them,” the general sat back in her seat, waving her hand once, dismissively. “Unless you had any more to discuss, that’s all I needed.”

“No, sir. Thank you, sir,” Cordova snapped a salute-reply, which was, this time, reflected by a full salute from his commander. At her parting hand motion, he quietly took his leave, exiting as quietly and unassumingly as he had entered.

 

The coming day, the hallways were quiet as Miles made his way back to Olivier’s office. It was early in the morning, and while preparations for combat had not stopped for the night, those who were awake and working were all outside or in lower levels of the fort, namely in Engineering and Development.

He held her coffee carefully, making sure not to spill it in his sleepy stupor. She had run out of her supply that she kept in her office due to her recently increased need for it, so he had offered to bring some to her from the mess hall.

As his feet took him on the familiar route to her office, he recognized the face of the rather lost-looking man before the newcomer saw the major, “Oh, Colonel Mustang.”

The colonel turned his gaze up to the Ishvalan, flashing him a small smile in greeting, “Good morning, Miles.”

Miles attempted to salute, but realized his hands were encumbered by a very-full cup of coffee before it was too late. Roy noticed as well, quickly continuing to speak so that the adjutant did not think a salute was required, “Grumman sent me up a little early to help with preparations. Is the general awake?”

The Briggs soldier smiled crookedly, his tone amused, yet dripping with obvious exhaustion, “I doubt she even knows what sleep is. Here, follow me.”

The alchemist quietly obliged, following him further down the hallway and up the elevator. They ascended several floors before Miles stopped it and exited before continuing down the long corridors, being mindful of the coffee that sat in his gloves the whole journey there.

Once at the entrance to her office, carefully freeing one hand, Miles rapped on the door with his knuckles. After hearing a quiet grumble, they entered.

“General, Colonel Mustang is here early to help,” the major spoke up before fully stepping inside. He made eye contact with the sleepless general as he neared her desk, which was still filled with papers, before gently setting her mug down in front of her.

She first glanced down at the steaming beverage. Upon looking up, she caught Miles’s red gaze again, the two silently sharing a warm look before her adjutant stepped off to the side, allowing Roy closer.

“Morning, General. Mind if I sit?”

“Guess not,” Olivier murmured, daintily drawing her mug closer to her. Respectful of their authority, Miles did not need a look or a gesture of dismissal before he quietly left the room, hands clasped together and held behind him calmly.

“Sorry for dropping by earlier than announced,” the colonel apologized, sincerely. “I tried radioing in, but all of your stations are busy.”

“Not like I have anything to hide from you anymore,” the woman rolled her icy eyes as she lifted the mug to her lips, careful of the heat.

“Funny you should say that, Miles said he doubted you knew what sleep is,” he exhaled a laugh. “Talk about unending stamina, huh? You must keep him very busy.”

“I know I’m suffering from exhaustion, but even if I were fully-awake, that wouldn’t have been funny,” another sip, her expression deadpanned. “Get some better jokes, or find something else to make fun of me for.”

Roy smiled affably, “Anyway, I had forgotten how cold it was here. Been awhile since there was joint-training between East and Briggs, I don’t even remember when I was up here last.”

“Other than that sort of fake training session during the Promised Day, it’s been a few years,” the blonde spoke. “Even before you were transferred to Central, it had been a hot minute since there was a joint session actually held up here.”

The alchemist nodded, making it no secret as he craned his head to look around her office, casually taking in the sights, “Nice place.”

“Your sarcasm is showing.”

“No, seriously, it’s much neater than mine.”

“You can thank my colonel for that,” Olivier finally set down her coffee, which was already a third gone. “What was it you needed? Or were you just bored and wanting to bug me.”

“Alphonse is on his way from Xing. He doesn’t know if he’ll get here in time, but he’s going to try,” Roy continued.

“Oh,” the woman blinked. “That’s good. We could use some medical alchemy out there.”

The man nodded, “Everyone else will be here today or tomorrow, they’re keeping some soldiers at North so your hands don’t get too full here. Also, some of the residents of Asbec are offering to house some men there if needed, and they said they’ll even be sending some horses up here soon with some extra supplies.”

“That’s… very helpful,” Olivier said, somewhat surprised, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her mug once again.

Roy smiled at her, “I think it was actually the Ishvalan community there who mainly wanted to send things. It was them who directly reached out to Central first.”

She nodded, taking another sip.

“How are things going here?”

“I’ve finished designating who will be in which squardon, and what everyone's jobs will be. I’ve also gone ahead and decided who will make up the initial and secondary primary strike teams.”

Roy cocked his head, “What are you planning?”

“We have little hope of completely wiping out an opposing force as large as that of the rebels, so I plan to send in strike teams to infiltrate and specifically take out the leaders,” She paused, closing her eyes a few seconds longer than a typical blink would take, enjoying the taste of her coffee. “Assuming they shy away from the actual combat and let their pawns spill their blood for them, obviously.”

Roy nodded slowly, understanding, though deep in thought. “Who will be part of these teams?”

“No one you know in Alpha Strike,” the blonde set her empty mug down, gently sliding it away from her. “But you and I will be in the Bravo, in the event that Alpha falls.”

“And Miles?” The colonel blinked. “I imagine you’d want him to be close to you, even if just to keep an eye on him.”

She looked up from her cup and made eye contact with him, holding his gaze for a moment in sheer silence.

After another few beats, Roy exhaled softly, “Ah, yeah. I understand.”

“Good,” Olivier spoke again, her silence having been deafening. “Make yourself useful and take this mug down to the mess hall, eat if you want. I wasn’t prepared on having you here until later, so acquaint yourself with the fort, please. Miles can give you a tour if you want, just don’t go around touching things or picking unknown things up off the ground like a child. If you break something, you’ll be dead before you even see combat.”

He stood slightly, carefully taking the mug before straightening fully, “Sure, general. I’ll see you later.”

Roy started towards the door, so Olivier looked back down at her paperwork-- until he cleared his throat once again, grabbing her attention.

His friendly, sarcastic smile had returned to him, “Also, try to get some sleep before tomorrow. You get all grumpy when you’re sleep-deprived.”

She let out a _tsk_ from between her teeth, “As if I’m not always grumpy. Get out of my office.”

He beamed amiably before turning back around and exiting, waving a farewell to her.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry I'm so late on this update once again. Art and writing block have had a strong hold on me again, which is probably why this chapter is (I feel) one of these "meh" plot-ridden chapters. I hope my jumping around aides itself to the story and how quickly the days are seemingly going by for Olivier and Miles, rather than just.. not being good or interesting to read lol
> 
> But anyway, as always, feel free to leave a kudos or a comment if you haven't already. I appreciate every single one of them <3
> 
> Also- AU where Miles does actually trip and fall through Olivier's door, but he's asleep before he even hits the floor. Roll credits


	20. Forthcoming Warfare

“Watch your step,” Olivier spoke as she descended the platform from which she had given her speech, her adjutant, right-hand colonel, and the Flame Alchemist in tow. 

She had rallied the entire population of the fort, temporary and permanent, to the rooftop in order to relay what everyone’s instructions would be the following morning. She split them off into platoons and companies, and designated each a specific leader. She informed them of what order troops would be sent in, where to place artillery, and where to direct tank fire, in addition to telling the Alpha strike team what exactly they should do when confronting the capitol building. She reminded the servicemen whose origins did not rest at Briggs of basic cold-weather safety precautions, and what to do in the events of different emergencies, such as snowstorms. Finally, after three solid hours of speaking through a megaphone and relaying orders, she reminded her soldiers of what was important. She spoke of Ishval, and the lives that were needlessly lost on both sides of the conflict; the brief history of Fort Briggs, leading up to the Promised Day when they effortlessly deferred the first Drachman attack; the dangers of keeping to oneself and nationalistic isolationism. In closing, she warned her men not to kill those not involved, and if possible, to help those who are suffering under the extremist regime. The general threatened that, unlike in Ishval, which was an unjust war left without consequence for far too long, she was not Bradley. 

And wrongdoings would be unmistakable, severe punishment inescapable.

“Mustang, please be prepared to go meet with Silq when she arrives and show her the way to my office. It should be anytime now. Stryker, if you could go oversee the distribution of supplies--”

“Sir,” Miles spoke up suddenly. It was unlike him to interrupt her, so the strange behavior succeeded in making his commander pause, also drawing the other two soldiers’ attention in tandem. “You’ve given everyone but me orders. What strike team will I be on?”

Olivier caught Roy’s reserved, apologetic gaze out of the corner of her eye as she let a beat pass, searching for the correct combination of words to say that would accurately get her point across without damaging her partner, “You won’t be on a strike team, Miles.”

He blinked at her, twice, his expression blank, as if she had made a joke, “I don’t--”

“You will be back here at Briggs assisting in the restock of supplies and helping the in and out flow of soldiers go smoothly.”

Another moment of silence passed before Miles’s eyebrows slowly lowered, the corners of his lips curling downward slightly, “Olivier, I’m coming out there to fight with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why not?!”

While he wasn’t by any means yelling, Olivier had never witnessed him even begin to raise his tone in the manner he was doing now. In turn, her own eyebrows furrowed somewhat, though her voice remained levelled, “We need someone high-up in charge back here, otherwise it’ll be chaos, plus you’ve had a slight limp due to that bullet wound and--”

“Get Stryker to do it,” he was attempting to lower and steady his tone, Olivier noted, yet it still remained raised with worry and frustration. 

“My mind has been made up, Major. I’m not going to argue.”

“You always act like you have to do things yourself! I need to be out there with you, fighting beside you. You’re  _ not _ immortal, Olivier, don’t act like you’re untouchable--”

“You’re not immortal either, Miles.”

The Ishvalan was silent, his face contorted as he tried to desperately fight the frustration he was feeling, his jaw clenched. 

“There is no such thing, and  _ we  _ of all people should know that.”

He searched for words for a moment, his effort futile, before he spun on his heels and began to storm off, his deep voice wavering, seemingly on the brink of tears, “Which is why I don’t want to leave you alone.”

The three soldiers watched in silence as the major disappeared down one of the many winding hallways of the fort, too distracted to conceal his moderate limp, which he had previously been successful in hiding. Once he was out of sight, Olivier finally noticed the pressure in her temples and the lump in her throat. She swallowed, turning blue eyes downward. 

She initially didn’t even notice Roy’s hand squeeze her shoulder. Slowly, she glanced up at him to be greeted with an uncharacteristically understanding look, “It’ll be alright, I’m sure it’s for the best. He’ll be safe this way.”

Stryker cleared his throat, “Uhm, General…? Is everything alright?”

The blonde woman shook her head slightly, looking back down at the floor, “I know there’s always been rumors going around that _ I am _ the Northern Wall of Briggs. Hell, Alexei told me that I’m called a  _ witch _ amongst the Drachman people because of how invulnerable I seemingly am. That I have no weaknesses, just like our impregnable fortress.”

The Briggs soldier nodded gently. Once more, the general’s irises turned upward to gaze off in the direction Miles had fled. 

“But it seems I do, after all.”

  
  


The young Briggs colonel’s face flushed a deep red, to Olivier’s confusion, upon the sight of the chimera in the general’s office. The dark-skinned woman had presumably left her original jacket at home in favor of one suiting cold weather, however this newly-donned coat still matched her supposed aesthetic to a T-- Black, with dark-colored fur around the neckline, and lots of nonfunctional, decorative metallic hoops that jingled quietly as she walked. 

Olivier propped her head up on her wrist as she impatiently eyed the soldier, since he had previously ignored her twice, “Stryker.”

No response as he stared at the newcomer, dumbfounded, as if he had never seen another woman besides Olivier in his life. 

“Colonel.”

Still nothing.

Silq had already been wearing a frown when she arrived, but now her crossed look was so stark, it rivaled that of the lieutenant general, “The hell’s wrong with this guy?”

“Who knows,” the blonde woman sighed, finally shoving the man roughly in the shoulder, snapping him out of his stupor. “You said your poison should be combated with gas masks, correct, Silq?”

The other woman nodded slightly. During one of their meetings in Central, Olivier had asked what sort of combat-related abilities the chimera had in her arsenal, to which she told about the chimera-typical increased strength, plus sharp teeth and claws. In addition, and to the general’s initial uncertainty and caution, like the gila monsters she had been fused with, she could emit a poisonous gas from sacks in her lower jaw, both as a liquid through a bite and as a gas through exhalation. “Should.”

“I don’t know if  _ should _ is a sure enough answer for my tastes,” Olivier answered, slowly. 

“The gas is a very obvious purple hue, so you know when to move away. The gas masks would just be a precaution if Amestrian soldiers weren’t able to relocate quick enough.”

The blonde pursed her lips for a moment, “That’s a start. We weren’t able to produce too many in the short time period allotted to us, but we have enough that I can send in some with the men who will be stationed in your immediate vicinity.”

“‘Ts fine,” Silq responded, the slight indifference in her voice evident. “Just tell most of them to keep their distance, I work alone anyway.”

“Sure,” Olivier mumbled, also uncaring. She knew the chimera was not looking forward to having to listen to the command of anyone but herself, but if she was to participate, she had to play nice with the other kids. At least, the kids who weren’t Drachman extremists. In that regard, Olivier would simply wave her hand and wish a happy hunting. 

“The Colonel here will show you around the fort. He’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

Silq hummed a low affirmative before exiting. The moment the door shut behind her, Olivier snapped a narrow glare to her soldier. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“She… she’s really pretty, General,” Stryker stammered. 

Olivier’s expression only hardened, “God, Stryker, please get your head in the game. You do realize we go to war tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” the colonel quickly stood from his seat at her desk. 

“Just get over yourself sooner than later, please. She’s dangerous and I still find it hard to trust her.”

Stryker nodded again, heading for the door, “Just an entire tour of the wall, sir?”

“Show her what’s relevant to our incoming endeavors. The northern side, infirmary, mess, and so on will do, only the essentials. She also said she’ll need some portable heating packs, so go ahead and go pick those up from Staff with her.”

He snapped her a salute and left her alone, only with her piles of paperwork to keep her company. 

  
  


As she made her way down the hallway, all was eerily quiet as the large majority of the fort had gone to bed early. Save for the increased numbers of men keeping night watch in case of an attack under darkness, Olivier had ordered for the other soldiers to get as much rest as possible so everyone would be rested for the coming day. All of the supplies had already been handed out, every soldier packed and ready. 

She was tired, yet she knew sleep would be a long time coming for her, with all that she had on her mind. She thought about what tomorrow would bring, what all would have to be done. She went over the plans she had laid out more than ten times, over and over, mentally putting together different scenarios, no matter how wild and unbelievable they were, just to try and see what all had the capacity of going wrong. She did not find many glaring flaws in her plans, yet her guard never once lowered.

Olivier also thought of Miles. She had not seen him since he had run off, and she was beginning to worry that she had really hurt him, yet she did not go after him. If he needed time to himself, she would be more than happy to give it to him. In all honesty, she would rather him be by her side, but in keeping him at the fort, he had little chance of getting injured, or worse. He was an adult, and a soldier, and he could handle it-- but she couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him. In the back of her mind, she also knew that another reason for his withholding was if something happened to her. Someone would need to lead the fort, and while Stryker was a suitable replacement for when neither the general nor her adjutant were present, Miles was her adjutant for a reason. He knew everything about her work and how to execute it after years of working beside her; it was only natural that he would take her place in the event of a tragedy. 

The blonde rounded the corner and paused once she saw him. He sat with his back against the wall, right next to the door to her room. In that moment, he looked so young-- eyes trained on the cold floor, head lowered slightly, face calm yet not anywhere near content. 

“Miles?” She spoke up softly, tucking the papers she was carrying under her arm as she neared him. Immediately, he looked up at her and nearly scrambled to his feet. 

“What are you doing out here…?”

His eyebrows were knit together as he looked down at her, his red eyes sad, “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have left you, I know how much work you had to do--”

The general quickly shook her head, “Don’t worry about any of that, I would’ve done the same, probably. But why were you just sitting here? Are you okay?”

Blood-colored irises darted away from her, almost sheepishly, “I didn’t want to go into your room uninvited. I didn’t know if you would be upset with me after earlier.”

“Don’t be silly,” she spoke, unlocking the door, even though he also had a key. She had given it to him years ago, not for companionship purposes, but just for emergencies if he needed to report to her at any moment. “You’re always welcome here.”

He smiled nervously, following her inside. He watched as she set her papers down, stepping out of her boots as she walked. As she sat down on the edge of the bed, he spoke up, gathering her attention, “Olivier.”

“Yes?”

“I,” he began, pausing to gather himself before he took his place beside her. “I know why you’re doing this. You know you don’t have to think of me as any more fragile than I was before, I’m still the same soldier.”

“I know,” she replied, voice quiet. She looked up at him, icy gaze meeting his. “I just want the best for you. At it’s core, it’s the same reason I allowed for the men who accompanied us to Briggs to go down to Central, even though it was only Miller who would not be combat-ready.” A small smile pulled at her lips, though her eyes shone sadness, “Though, I obviously don’t feel the same way about them as I do you. If something happens to me, you need to take my place. And I wasn’t lying when I said the men here need someone capable to guide them.”

“I know,” he sighed slowly, setting a hand on hers. He took a brief moment to study how small it was compared to his. “I just hate you going out there. I feel like you’ll be alone, though I know you won’t be,” a small smile reflected hers. “I know you’re the most capable out of everyone here, after all.”

She leaned against his shoulder slightly, offering him her own unique subtle form of affection, “I’ll take care of myself.”

“You had better, or I’ll have to have some choice words with you,” she could hear his smile widen slightly as he rest his cheek against her head. 

“You’ve given me someone to come home to. I will.”

  
  


Thanks to Olivier’s strict organization and her useful tendency to do many of the more difficult and involved combat-related tasks prior to their actual embarkment, their exodus from Briggs was going smoothly. She had agreed to let Miles accompany them so far, until he would return with some of the troops not sent up for combat, but for the sole reason of setting up barricades. 

Some scouts were sent in first, armed with snipers, flares, and heavy bulletproof vests beneath their arctic camouflage. Behind them slowly rolled tanks, on the prowl, like great beasts simply waiting for something to obliterate. Aerosani zipped past, guarding the scouts, and behind them moved supply trucks, some filled to the brim with soldiers while others held explosives, artillery cannons, and machine guns. 

Stryker drove one of the trucks in the lead, another officer sitting beside him as the lieutenant general, her adjutant, the Flame Alchemist, and the chimera sat in the back with three other foot soldiers. They made up the secondary strike team, all armed, their blues exchanged for whites, gas masks dangling from their necks, save for Silq and Miles. Roy in particular had constantly been grumbling about having to wear the arctic camouflage, yet he soon understood the need for it once they crossed the border and there was nothing visible on the horizon that was not the color of snow. Silq did not don the uniform; she had insisted that she would tear out of it before long, claiming that her chimera form was too large. While that remained to be seen, Olivier complied. 

Eventually, they reached what was the beginnings of civilization. While there had been a few outposts, most of them empty, the very miniscule number of Drachman soldiers seen were swiftly and silently dispatched by snipers. It was crucial that they were within a certain area of the capitol before Drachma was alerted of their presence; one of Amestris’s advantages over the northern country was their element of surprise. It would be vital that their cover was not blown too early. 

They finally reached where the barricades would be placed, and soldiers were to continue on foot. Stryker parked the truck, hopping out in unison with the officer who had sat adjacent to him, who would now prepare to man the truck in the colonel’s absence. The members of the strike team also exited the vehicle shortly after it slowed to a stop. 

Miles helped Olivier out of the back, allowing her a moment to look around. All of the trucks had parked near to one another, allowing for the servicemen to exit in large groups as to not get separated. She ordered several nearby men to come retrieve the supplies and explosives they had brought along, stepping away with her other team members in tow. Everything was going to plan thus far.

However, she paused when she felt Miles take her hand, “Olivier.”

Turning back to him, he instantly wrapped his arms tightly around her in a hug. Within mere seconds, she felt her cheeks heat up slightly, used to his affection by now, but surprised that he would show it in such a public place. 

If she didn’t already feel hundreds of eyes on her in that moment, she absolutely did once he took her face in his hands and kissed her. 

Under any other circumstances, she would have been flustered and at a loss of how to deal with the situation. Yet, now, she just kissed back. The sharpness of a soldier’s mind before combat was too strong to allow her to relax and enjoy the kiss, his touch; yet she held it for a good moment either way. 

She didn’t want to think of it as their last, but she would make the most of it in the event that it was.

As their lips parted, eyes shut, their foreheads touching, she allowed herself a small smile and a chuckle. Her voice was soft and matter-of-fact, only spoken to him, “Well, I guess everyone knows now.”

“I don’t care,” was his sincere, sure reply. “If the higher-ups try to do something about it, I’ll resign before you lose your job, or worse. They can’t say anything about fraternization if I’m not a soldier.”

The lieutenant general rest her hands on his arms, opening her blue eyes to look up at him. Her smile was gentle, yet playful, “Right now, I  _ am _ one of the higher-ups. Don’t worry.”

His own eyed opened and his gaze met hers, returning her smile somewhat, “Just please, be safe. And be smart, for goodness sake.”

“When am I not?” She said mischievously, letting go of him. “Have a safe trip back.”

Miles nodded, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

With one last smile, he turned away from her. Olivier did not allow herself a moment to watch him leave; instead, she turned on her heels as well, starting off in the direction of the Drachman capitol. As they saw their leader start off towards the tanks, parked in waiting for the Amestrian soldiers, they followed suit in respectful silence. 

Once they were far enough from the barricades, Olivier turned back to them. Though she knew she had no megaphone, she hoped that the emptiness of the tundra would carry her voice, “Alright, men. Kozhurovgrad will be in sight soon. Keep separated into your respective groups, and do not shoot until I say so. The scouts will send up a flare at the first sign of combat, but be prepared for anything. Those with artillery go in near the front and set up if you can, in an area cleared by the scouts, but close enough to hit the capitol building if possible. If they push us back too far, settle for any strategic spot. If you’re near any gases, even supposedly, don’t hesitate to pull on your masks. Remember all that I told you yesterday, and remember that we are Amestris. Got it?”

A loud, unified affirmative boomed in the snow. 

Wordlessly, she turned her back to them and signalled them forward. For a few minutes, she would hang back with her team and monitor the encroachment of her troops, making sure that the vehicles and big guns being transported were being taken care of and moved accurately. The tanks rolled forth once again, aerosani slowed to a wary creep as small white flecks began to drift gently from the sky. Not violently, yet, to Olivier’s relief, but she would definitely be keeping an eye on it. Many of those in her small army were from an area where it seldom snowed, and she knew that the brief join-sessions held at Briggs every year and the few short days of intensive cold-climate drills would not bring the East soldiers (and especially not those from West) up to the level that northern Amestrian and Drachman soldiers were able to function in inclement weather. 

While difficult to see initially through the light snow, the peaks of the capitol building were visible. They were not close enough yet for combat, only just close enough for Drachman scouts and lookouts to begin spotting them-- the building was just  _ that  _ large. 

Roy padded alongside her in the snow, the chimera on her opposite side. The man cleared his throat, speaking up, “General, how do we know the rebellion is concentrated here? What if the leaders aren’t here right now?”

“The coup  _ absolutely _ is concentrated here, we’ve had moles placed here and around Drachma since the mishap before the Promised Day who have informed us of that fact. If the leaders somehow knew about us attacking and they split, we’ll actually have an easier time seizing the area. It’ll be useful to us either way, since most of the operations are conducted through here. If we cannot take out the leaders today, though I’m sure they’re here right now, then we will have gained an extremely sturdy foothold here either way. We will still be able to cripple the regime.”

He nodded slightly, black hair bouncing somewhat. Olivier could tell it sounded risky to him, as all of her plans typically did, but she knew by his silence that he trusted her judgement. 

He started to open his mouth to speak again, when a single gunshot popped softly in the distance. While it was far-off, it seemed as if the whole of the earth froze in that moment, and since the gunshot had carried, everyone heard it. All eyes turned towards Olivier, who was motionless, brows furrowed, as she tuned in to the silence, listening for any others. The soldiers around her all, just as they were taught, were still as they stared at her, awaiting an order. 

“Steady,” she said, voice slightly raised, waiting for anything-- another gunshot, a scream, a flurry of shots.

What came next was the bright, red light of a flare as it ascended into the sky, its crimson glow reflecting off of the white and snow-filled clouds, preemptively coloring the ground a foreboding red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter, and I'm sorry I've been a little slow with updates again. I'm feeling a little better about writing again, and I appreciate all of you who kudos and comment on here, and who like and reblog on tumblr. I love you all and hope you all continue to enjoy tnt as we come upon the event that this whole thing has kinda been about :) and no i totally didn't forget for the past 3 chapters that Liv was temporarily promoted dont look at me
> 
> ALSO the Stryker and Silq idea was courtesy of NorthernWall on here, heheh. If you enjoy Livmiles as much as I do (first off, hi i love you) then DEFINITELY GO TO NORTHERNWALLS PROFILE you won't be disappoint
> 
> we've also come full circle with that damn flare ending chapters :')


	21. The Northern Theatre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning -- canon-typical graphic violence.

She lifted her hand and gave a single, silent motion. Though it was a small and wordless signal, those around her saw it, and their leap into action would alert the others that open combat had begun.

Soldiers burst forward, rifles drawn, and in a moment, the once-still air around them was filled with blasts. Firearms and cannons were being emptied, and farther off ahead of them, tanks were already alive and hunting; the booms produced from the large machines without an equal in terms of how purely dangerous they seemed solely through the sounds they emitted.

Without even needing to say anything to her team, Olivier advanced as she drew her rifle. Drachma could already be heard returning fire, their own tanks and artillery returning the shells cast upon them by Amestris.

“Roy,” the lieutenant general spoke up, not even trying to keep her voice down any longer. In fact, she had to raise it slightly due to the volume of the fighting ahead of them, “Go to the front lines and see if you can take out any of their artillery or large, solidified groups of soldiers. If we have to storm the capitol ourselves, I’ll come find you later.”

He nodded curtly and started towards the front lines, tugging on the opening of one of his gloves to make sure they were on good and tight.

“You two,” she then turned to the remaining soldiers in her designated strike team. “Go and help defend the cannons.” In an instant, they were gone, speeding forward to carry out their orders.

The sky was already darkened with smoke from the various war technology utilized by either sides, yet sparks of red, angry light from firearms and alchemical flames lit the sky, contrasting with the black clouds. It was already chaos, and Olivier had to work to ignore the screams of pain that sounded out from between the gunshots and explosions.

“Silq, you come with me,” she began again, turning back to the chimera. Silq nodded obediently, much less unyielding now that they were actually in battle, as the two entered the fray.

While the ex-military woman was not near as skilled with a gun as the general was, she was still able to take a Drachman soldier out rather quickly. The blonde, however, did not notice the chimera’s unlikely kill as she was occupied with her own scuffle, gunning down one retreating enemy as another neared closer to her.

In one motion, Olivier dropped her rifle-- it catching on the strap that lay across her shoulder-- as she drew her sword from her hip. The Drachman was attempting to get as close as possible to her in hopes of a point-blank kill, yet he was greedy, and he was _too_ close. One slice of her blade rendered him dead, flecks of blood like glitter in the rising sunlight, until they fell to earth, much less ceremonious as when they first left the body.

“Silq,” She began again, attempting to bring the chimera closer to her for their joint safety. Not hearing any form of a reply, she turned over to her, and opened her mouth to scold her to pay attention or respond when spoken to. However, when she saw the serious, focused look on the dark woman’s face, the general stopped halfway through her sentence. “What is it?”

Silq gave one small, stoic nod forward, just as the smell hit Olivier, instantly springing forth a sudden gag reflex in her. It was such an odd and out-of-place scent to encounter in the biome they were in, since dead things in such freezing temperatures were often left for months on end without any form of decay.

Yet, the putrid smell was very much present, and very much encroaching. The general spun around to see what the other woman had gestured towards, to be met with the soulless and distant gaze of a chimera of animal make. Now the smell had a very obvious source; this creature was hideous in more ways than one. The few military-grade chimeras Olivier had read about before had been like this-- cobbled together through the genetic splicing of different animals, unlike the human-made ones like Silq she had only ever heard about prior to their meeting. It had two heads, one seemingly of a large dog, the other of an unidentified species of large cat, like a lion. Both were snarling ferally, unable to close their mouths due to the unnatural, modified sizes of their teeth, and their mismatched and twisted, muscular legs (which resembled those of a bear) bore heavily into the snow below them. Behind them whipped a long reptilian tail, and all over their body, flesh sloughed off, rotting already.

“Shit,” Olivier exhaled, unable to avert her gaze as she lifted a gloved hand to cover her nose.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Silq said coldly, shedding her coat. She pat the heat packs she had stuffed into the multiple pockets on her pants, making sure they were already working, “You can tell this thing was _just_ made by the way it’s decaying so quickly. They weren’t kidding when they said the alchemy used to birth these things was shoddy, huh?”

Olivier could only shake her head. And she had thought the _immortal soldiers_ were ugly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, though, boss. I’ll put them out of their misery,” the chimera stretched her arms as the other chimera drew closer. “Just please, if I die, make sure they burn me or bury me with this coat. It’s real nice.”

Miles had described the transformation to Olivier before, having worked with some of the chimeras that had initially served as Kimblee’s bodyguards, though she had never seen it with her own eyes. She watched in silence as Silq took one step forward, her body quickly growing, arms and legs becoming longer and thicker as sharp claws burst forth along with a large, strong tail. The general now understood why she had forgone the uniform, it _would_ have been to small for her chimera form. As she was busy watching the scaly bumps rise from the monster’s exposed skin and orange and black blotches spreading across her hide, she didn’t even notice the transformation of her head, which was suddenly entirely reptilian in nature as well. All that remained of the chimera’s human form was her tank top and pants-- now torn, but still somehow fitting despite her body being around three times larger than before-- and all of the piercings that had previously adorned her face.

She gave another stretch, and sharp cracks were heard-- the realigning of her spine to give her a more quadrupedal gait, Olivier supposed. Instantly, the enemy chimera was on high alert, it’s tail flicking heavily from side to side now as it sized up its new opponent.

“Just call for me if things go south, because I think I’ll have my hands full here,” Silq spoke to her suddenly, her voice contorted, sounding slightly as if multiple voices were speaking at once-- one being Silq’s, one deeper and not her own. “I can sense others farther inside the city.”

“Alright,” Olivier replied, her curiosity piqued by the _two_ strange creatures that now stood before her. As the chimera lunged for Silq, she gave a deep roar, rearing back onto her hind legs before slamming her clawed hands down onto the enemy as is charged, plummeting it into the ground with all of her body weight.

A flurry of snow had flown into the air on impact, so the blonde took it as a moment to quietly take her leave as it settled. Though she didn’t have any specific plans at the moment, she thought that she would bide her time until she deemed it necessary for her strike team to enter the capitol in the event of the first team’s failure. She moved forward swiftly, watching the fighting as it unfolded around her.

They were in the thick of it now, with Drachman foot soldiers in active, close combat with her own. The secondary barricades that had not been placed farther back towards Briggs had been planted the moment the attacking soldiers saw the first flare, and they seemed to be rather effective for the moment-- many Amestrian soldiers were seen taking cover behind them, while others found shelter behind large banks of snow, only peeking over and around to take shots at the enemy. Nearby, an Amestrian tank suddenly exploded as it was hit with a large projectile-- the shell of an enemy tank, Olivier guessed, by the damage it caused. The burst was loud, and large, as it sent smoke, debris, and small fireballs into a large area around it. She had gotten far enough away from the fighting chimeras, which she could still hear grappling in the distance, so the smell of rot was no longer present; yet now, the smell of burning metal and gunpowder stung her lungs just as the noise did to her ears.

She had not been present during the first attempted Drachman attack on Briggs, yet she could easily imagine it. The smell, the sights, the sounds, even the heat on her skin as she navigated away from the burning tank-- they were all part of the typical combat scenery.

Yet, she knew that this was already much worse than the first attack.

Closer, she made her way to the capitol building of Kozhurovgrad. During their initial infiltration of the northern country, they had not crossed through heavily-populated areas like this one, where, once inside city lines, buildings stood tall and closely-packed. Many of them were empty now, evacuated at the first sign of fighting outside. Out of the corner of her cautious and attentive gaze, Olivier noticed a few Drachmans-- obviously civilians as they fled in the opposite direction of the combat, to where Olivier knew the next closest town was located. She couldn’t help but feel a small pang of relief when she also saw some of her soldiers turn their heads, take one look at them, notice they were not soldiers, and continue on with what they had been doing. She wished that no innocent lives would be lost, if at all possible.

She knew that that was not the nature of warfare, yet nothing stopped her from hoping.

Some snow near her feet jumped as a bullet hit, causing her to instinctively jump to the side to avoid a second, more accurate shot. The sudden movement caused her to feel a ghost pain in her shoulder, where she _had_ taken a bullet not four weeks ago.

In a flash, her rifle was against her shoulder as she peered down it, instantly spotting her shooter. She took a shot and missed as he ducked away just as she felt the cold metal of a gun against the back of her head.

She heard Drachman spoken, yet her mind was too clouded with adrenaline to attempt to mentally translate it. She knew they would take her in as a prisoner if at all possible, but if they thought it would be that easy to take her in alive, they were sorely mistaken.

He was much taller than her, like many Drachman soldiers were, so her heel easily found his knee, kicking back with enough force to hopefully break it. She knew that it was unlikely a simple kick would yield such devastating results, yet years of being in the military had given her a few choice gems of information.

One being the fact that men who were nervous or in high-stakes circumstances often locked their knees. Every new group of soldiers that came to her base for training were told not to at the risk of fainting during long periods of standing at attention, but she was aware that protocol like that was usually forgotten in the heat of battle. Bent knees were typically able to absorb the force of a kick, yet when she heard the sickening crack and felt the metal leave her head as the Drachman buckled, she supposed that his were not, and that her quickly-made hypothesis was correct.

She swung backwards, raising the gunstock of her rifle off her shoulder and backwards, not stopping its force even after she felt it forcefully hit flesh. Hoping that she would be quick enough to act before the first soldier took another shot at her, she turned her back to him to face the soldier who she had kicked, quickly aiming her rifle and firing.

Once that was done, she quickly made her way over to the first, ducking lowly as he shot again, yet she was upon him in a second, her next shot hitting its mark at near point-blank, the ground speckled with red. Just as she did so, she heard another boom, and for a brief second, in the heat of the moment, she wondered if her gun had backfired.  

Lifting her head, she paused for a beat to whip her hair out of her face. Initially too distracted by the combat to realize, this gave her the opportunity to notice how bad the weather had quickly become. The distance her vision once reached was greatly diminished, replaced by white particles and hanging clouds as the snow picked up alongside the wind. It did not help that the daylight was still very strong behind the snow flurries, causing the white world around her to seem brighter, all while still contrasting with the dark gun smoke that hung low to the snow underfoot. Around her, though she could not see half as well, the fighting continued, the atmosphere alive and sounding off as the chorus of booms and yells drowned out what would have been the whistle of the increasing wind. The only whistling present was that of the cannon shells as they fell to earth, the sound delicate yet eerie and foreboding in one’s ears right up until the moment the projectile would make contact with the ground, resulting in a much less pleasant tearing of the eardrums. Her breathing came more shallow and quickened as her heart rate increased from the adrenaline, yet the ash on the air stung her chest as she breathed in, making her whole torso feel tight.

These were the kinds of circumstances in which soldiers began to lose their minds.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Olivier lifted the gas mask to her face, tightening the straps around the back of her head after hanging her rifle from its own strap across her chest. In all honesty, the gas masks wouldn’t prevent a panic attack-- in fact, they would probably worsen them due to the feeling of claustrophobia, yet she, personally, was just thankful she didn’t have to breathe in the ash and smoke at this point. She pressed forward, glancing around in search of anything, really-- perhaps a squad of her men under attack who she could assist, or a Drachman cannon she could toss a grenade to.

What she didn’t expect was to nearly trip over a small body in the snow.

She stumbled, yet quickly caught herself and spun to see what exactly she had almost stepped on. In the snow sat a small person, in fetal position, and initially, Olivier did not see movement. Though she immediately assumed the worst, she still knelt low to the ground in order to blend with the snow as much as possible as she left her back wide open during her investigation.

Their uniform was Drachman, yet the size of the body caused her to check either way. She was correct upon closer inspection; it was a young child, clutching a gun far too big for her small frame to carry. Upon seeing the Amestrian soldier, she froze up, eyes wide, reddened with tears that streaked her cheeks, glinting in the low light as if they had already begun to freeze.

The blonde woman reached out a hand, slowly, trying to seem as gentle as possible, yet the Drachman still dropped her gun and grabbed the dagger strapped to her hip with violently shaking hands, directing it in the lieutenant general’s direction.

The way she gripped it with both hands, Olivier knew she was one of the many children who had been trained to fight for the new regime-- yet these children were not near old enough to know how to use any of the weapons handed to them. With a disgusted pang in her heart, she remembered how her soldiers had told her the young ones were used as cannon fodder more than anything. Yes, it made sense now, sickeningly.

Once again, she thought of Karelia, clad in a uniform far too large with a gun weighing her down.

The aerosani seemed to burst out of thin air, and Olivier didn’t even remember shoving, practically tackling, the young Drachman out of the way. The first moment that she was able to comprehend her surroundings, she saw that she was on the ground, shielding the enemy, as a burning Amestrian aerosani spun out of control away from them. It was travelling at such a high speed towards the inner city; the vehicle was skipping along the snowy ground, like a round pebble over the surface of a lake, until it finally lost traction, spinning and flipping vertically in the air, casting off bits of metal and other mechanical parts, until a building stopped it in its path in a large billow of flame and death.

Olivier had been debating on when to send in the second team into the capitol building, and that seemed to be the sign she was looking for. In the low visibility, she couldn’t tell who exactly was winning or losing at this point-- she had just seen two of their specially-adapted vehicles, which were normally rather tough and hardy, go up in flames. She took that as a cue that they had to act now, or risk failure.

She stood, but was stopped as she felt a tug on her sleeve. Looking down, she saw the Drachman’s dark eyes peering up at her expectantly, full of fear still, yet not towards the general any longer.

Without words, Olivier knelt to her again, maintaining eye contact as she gently pried the dagger from the child’s free hand. Once she had the knife, she simply tossed it into the snow beside them before pointing her index finger westward.

The Drachman’s gaze followed her signal, yet she did not let go of her fistful of white camouflage. Tugging away slightly, Olivier attempted to get away, though the child sniffled, holding back tears as she remained steadfast with her grip. The blonde woman would never come to understand why-- perhaps the Drachman was just afraid and alone, in need of a guiding figure. Perhaps her parents had been killed, and she searched for an adult she could trust who could fulfill the now-void role; and while trust was not so easily gained under normal circumstances, especially not between two citizens from two different warring nations, the current situation was as dire as they get, and one small gesture of mercy most likely meant the world and more to her.

Olivier tried to soften her gaze, hoping the child could see her eyes through the gas mask she still wore. They held eye contact for a long moment before she set her own hand on the Drachman’s, softly moving it away from her. Finally, the stranger let go, understanding. After a few moments of contemplation, and finally, acceptance, she gave one last thankful glance to the Amestrian. She stood, and though her legs were shaking, she fled, to hopefully rejoin other civilians.

The lieutenant general did not waste time watching her go. Instead, she leapt to her feet again and hurried towards the capitol building, hoping that she wouldn’t have to travel far in order to find the rest of her small team.

That was, until she heard an explosion-- much louder and closer than any others had been before it. She turned so suddenly that her neck cramped, sending a shock of pain up to her skull. Blue eyes turned upwards to look at the towering stone legislative building, just to see the spires crumbling before her.

This was not part of the plan.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action scenes are hard.  
> Hope you all continue to enjoy, I'm sorry this update was a little late again. Don't forget to leave a kudos or comment if you'd like, I love you all <3


	22. That Which is Absolute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning-- canon-typical graphic violence.

Almost immediately after the initial explosion, several other smaller ones were heard, each followed by a small burst of what resembled sparks of lightning. Olivier watched the spires of the capitol building crumble, stunned into silence. She had not instructed for the strike team to use explosives; while she _had_ given them grenades, this chaos was on a much larger scale. Grenades were incapable of dealing this much damage to such a building-- and grenades did not explain the electricity being emitted.

She had a theory, but the general had never been one to assume things without solid evidence.

She gathered herself, reaching a hand back behind her head to undo the straps that held the gas mask to her face. Loosening them, the mask fell, catching on the back of her neck, before she hurried off in a single, deliberate direction.

While the sun had risen and daylight was upon them, the flames were still wholly visible, licking the sky, like a living predator not satiated with its meal. The ones in particular that Oliver was passing at the moment had been borne from the mechanical workings of one of the Drachman tanks. Having been a similar model to Amestris’s VK 30.01 types, Olivier knew that the double engines only served to fuel the flames further, developing a sharp smell similar to that of what was often encountered in the Research and Development workshops back home.

 _Home_ , she thought with a pang of melancholy. It was something she always had to remind herself, especially after she had lost men like Buccaneer, and Halifax, and Sikorsky-- lives would be lost at the expense of protecting the homeland. In this case, it was the innocent citizens of Drachma’s homeland they would be protecting, yet it made no difference to her. It was always on her mind during combat; lives would always be lost in war, but the point of having a strong and intelligent leader was always to minimize the number of those that fell as much as possible.

She often doubted herself, yet that thought alone always served to bring her back to reality. She was the leader assigned to Briggs, yes, but in actuality, it was Briggs that had chosen her. Her men trusted her, and believed in her, and no matter how much her uncertainty plagued her--

She would not fail them.

Her feet led her towards fire, yet not a stationary one. This flame was alive, and carnivorous; an apex predator, moving organically like the swiftly-crawling body of a great beast.

When it roared to life, she heard many instances of the Drachman word for “hell”, and “dragon”, among screams of terror and singeing pain.

The cause of the inferno had made _her_ life a living hell for the past ten years, that was for sure.

“Roy!” She called out, her voice scratching in her throat, burning like the blaze around her, as she tried to overpower the volume of the chaos.

She called to a figure, sparks erupting from their raised hand. Though the image was muddled and shrouded by the mixture of snow, ash, and, now, embers, she saw it quickly turn to her upon hearing her voice.

Over here, unlike farther away, like where Olivier saw the Drachman child, the air was tinted a mustard yellow, visibility still eerily low. However, the image cleared once it neared her.

“Olivier!” The Flame Alchemist called back as he ran to her. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve scolded him for using her first name, but this wasn’t the time nor the place for that. If they succeeded and survived, she’d punch him in the arm later, she decided. “What’s the news?”

“Something’s happening at the capitol,” the lieutenant general responded, her voice urgent. “I know I’m no scientist, but it looks alchemical. I didn’t instruct the strike team to use explosives, yet the spires are crumbling, and there’s electricity I can see coming from inside and around the building.”

“How concentrated are the sparks?” Roy asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“They follow the path of the debris that are cast off of the building, not just like an electrical issue.”

“You’re probably right,” the other soldier replied, pausing to turn away and snap his fingers as enemies approached them. Olivier watched as he used his alchemy, the sparks flitting momentarily around his glove matching the ones from the capitol almost exactly, as a flame burst forth, directed towards the approaching silhouettes.

“It’s alchemy,” she decided. “I’m going to assume the alpha team has failed, I’ll have to go in.”

“ _You_?” Roy spun back to her. As he did so, the blonde noticed the blood staining his arm, red seeping through the uniform, in addition to flecks of blood on his cheek.

“You’re obviously needed out here,” Olivier replied immediately, gesturing roughly to a singed Drachman body near them, the stench unmistakable. “It would draw less attention if I went in alone. Plus, you’re already injured--”

“You are too, don’t be foolish!” The alchemist said, frowning. At this, Olivier glanced down at herself to see what he meant. On one hip and both of her legs, small blotches of red had formed around what seemed to be small holes torn into the white of her uniform.

It could’ve been a number of things, but she guessed it was when the aerosani nearly ran her over, since bits of glass and metal had been flying off of it. She couldn’t tell exactly, however, since even something as near to her line of vision as her legs was still veiled by the soot and ash in the air.

“Take Silq with you,” Roy ordered to her. “I saw her not too far from here.”

“Fine,” Olivier huffed angrily, not waiting for him to continue before she dashed away.

The snow had significantly thickened, so she thought it best to gain some ground before she went looking for the chimera. With a higher view, she may be able to spot the beast’s large body from afar, even through all of the war-borne air pollution.

She freed herself from the thick of the combat, spotting a hill of snow. Making her way over to it, she found it to be a bit of a struggle to gather her footing, given that the top layer of snow was fresh, and not fully set. She ended up having to sling her rifle onto her back, getting on her hands and knees to clamber to the top, the cold of the snow stinging her flesh even through her gloves and her uniform. It was significantly worse in the spots Roy had pointed out, since even in the small torn areas, snow was able to touch her skin, sending slight shocks up her legs. However, after a moment of crawling, she had already grown used to it.

Sooner than she would have expected, she was at the top, rising to her feet on wobbly legs, the ground uneasy under her boots. After gathering her balance, she stood, back straight, and looked upon the chaos.

A dark cloud seemed to loom over the battlefield; the soot and ash all mixing into a concoction that would be a pain to get out of the lungs later. Higher up, she could see more; the tanks engaging in grounded dogfights in the distance, each battle swiftly won or lost, since tanks were not in the slightest impervious to fire from their own kind. Only a few aerosani remained, but she could see that one with a machine gun mounted onto it had made its way haphazardly to the capitol building, firing long lines of bullets into advancing Drachman soldiers. She could distinctly point out the Flame Alchemist’s location if asked; signified by the dance of living fire that made its way through enemy soldiers, weaving between Amestrians in order for them to avoid the inferno’s blaze.

And now, she could see the legislative building, its height reaching beyond the shroud of the warzone, yet its architecture in shambles. Bursts of lightning from within would creep up walls and spires moments before the ornate stone would crumble, and Olivier suddenly understood.

The alchemists were destroying their capitol; yet the destruction was controlled. They were trying to block off the entrances.

A seeping purple hue through the cloud abruptly ripped her attention from the building ahead of her and back down to the active combat. A large, dark figure, rose up from the blanket of smoke, the image only temporary, before it fell heavily back down once again.

Without a reaction, Olivier simply pulled the gas mask tight around her face again, and after a few breaths inhaled and exhaled inside to regulate her breathing, she skidded down the snowy slope, towards the monster.

She called for the chimera once she was close enough to hear the savage sounds of animalistic combat, ducking as soon as she heard gunshots whizz past her.

Something heavy fell ahead of her, sending a deep, shaking tremor through the ground, nearly causing the lieutenant general to lose her footing. Once more, she called out the beast’s name.

The air around her stilled, and a deep, primal instinct instructed Olivier to stop in her advance. Obeying, her steps stilled; her breathing ceasing for a moment as she focused her hearing on her surroundings.

A few beats passed before she heard deep footsteps crunching in the snow in front of her. As a precaution, she drew her sword, aware that bullets alone could not take down a chimera. She was, however, relieved once she saw the familiar hulking black and orange body near her.

The reptilian was bloodied, and her breathing was heavy-- though not out of exhaustion. Her voice showed the hint of impatience, “Yes, chief?”

“You and I need to go to the capitol building,” the blonde woman replied, sheathing her sword again. “They’re using alchemy to seal off the entrances, so we need to move quickly. I’m assuming the first strike team has failed; it’s our turn, and I need your help.”

“My, my,” Silq cooed, her doubled voice low as she flashed a toothy smile down to the general. “ _You_ need _me,_ huh? And I had heard that the Ice Queen can do anything by herself.”

“You’ll be disappointed to know that my level of humility far exceeds that which the rumors about me portray,” she spoke simply, turning a few degrees before she started back off towards the capitol. “You’re either coming, or you’re not.”

Silq huffed softly, following closely behind the soldier in silence.

 

The building had fallen into deeper dilapidation by the time Olivier and Silq neared it. There was an obvious struggle still occurring out front; a handful of Amestrian soldiers taking cover behind the machine gun-mounted aerosani the general had spotted earlier, turned onto its side. Opposite from them, a slightly greater number of Drachman soldiers stood in the capitol’s still-standing doorway, retreating back into the building for cover during reloads on their rifles.

Olivier kneeled in order to remain out of sight of the enemy, “We’ll have to find another way in, there’s too many.”

She looked up to see the chimera standing beside her, her front two legs pawing the snow-laden ground in an agitated manner. “I can take them,” she said.

“They’ll just retreat back into the building, where we’ll have less room to fight. Plus, I don’t want my soldiers getting caught in the crossfire.”

“I want to fight,” Silq huffed again, snorting, puffs of purple smog rising from her nostrils with every restive breath. “I can take them,” she repeated as she stomped in place, kicking up snow.

“Don’t disobey me,” Olivier raised her voice, feeling her lips curl and her nose scrunch in growing anger.

The reptilian head swung down to look the general in the eye. If she was trying to intimidate the blonde, it wasn’t working.

“I’ll have you know I fought the physically strongest homunculus and lived. You’re either with me, Silq, or you’re against me. Don’t make me regret giving you my trust.”

Her voice was lowered, and even, as blue eyes stared decidedly into the white orbs of the chimera. After a moment of contemplation, Silq lifted her large head to look back unto the fray ahead of them.

“Fine.”

As if on cue, another alchemic rumble sent a shock through what solid ground was underfoot, and Silq, not having felt the first tremors, faltered slightly as her heavy weight was shifted involuntarily. Turning her gaze upwards, Olivier noticed that the spires on the capitol were no more, and now, the ceiling of the top floor seemed to be caving in. However, that was not the source of this current quake.

Far enough away for initial comfort, that was no longer the case. A small mountain range made up entirely of tall, ancient mountains had been erected behind Kozhurovgrad since antiquity, and as far as Olivier had known, there were never any incidents involving it in recent, modern history.

This was sure to change the course of history books. In too much of a state of shock to fully process any thoughts, the general, the chimera, and undoubtedly the entirety of the Drachman and Amestrian forces combined, watched in silence, combat pausing, as the mountain began to crumble before them.

It was too far away for sound to be heard, yet that wasn’t even the heart of the danger.

No, that was the encroaching avalanche.

“What the hell have they done,” the lieutenant general breathed, eyes wide.  

“I can make that window,” Silq said suddenly, taking Olivier’s attention from the avalanche. She glanced around her quickly-- surely any Drachman military officials would order a retreat, she initially thought. Yet, this was not the old regime they were fighting.

Her first priority was the safety of her soldiers, not the enemy. She trusted Roy would lead them to safety if the snowslide was upon them.

They did not need her.  

“Window,” Olivier whispered to herself, eyes hastily searching the facade of the building. On one of the mid-level floors, a large ornate window-- the general assumed it was for the aesthetic appeal of a purely-decorative room-- stood untouched by the building’s ruin. “Yes, perfect.”

Trotting forward without another moment’s hesitation, the chimera neared the building before crouching low, haunches tensing. Olivier followed more slowly than the beast, cautious as warning signals sounded off in her mind, all of the stimuli giving her quite the headache, which was unlike her.

It was a strange feeling for her, yet for the past two or so hours of the battle, she had an unexplained, yet unshakable feeling of dread from deep within her chest. I gripped her being, clinging to her lungs, preventing them from expanding as they should. It quickened her heart, and sent adrenaline down her limbs, causing them to shake.

With great force that one would not expect from a creature her weight, Silq leaped upwards, long claws initially scraping down the wall, leaving violent-looking slices in the stone. Luckily, after a moment of her slowly descending back down, she managed to get her talons to successfully catch inside the indentations in the brick.

Letting out a forceful exhale of relief, she began to climb, albeit clumsily, for her animalistic DNA was not built for scaling trees and the like. It only took a well-placed hand on glass and the whole of her upper-body strength to shatter the large window, allowing her inside.

After she gained her footing, her scale-plated hands impervious to the shards of glass that now littered the floor, she turned to look back out the window.

A single look from the chimera told Olivier to come, so the general hurried up to the wall, craning her neck to look upwards.

“I’m going to grab you by the hood,” Silq announced, carefully leaning out of the window. Initially, she tried to reach Olivier with her hands, but her arm’s length was not long enough. Instead, without warning, she leaned down further, making Olivier’s heart skip a beat in shock as the chimera’s maw opened, revealing her jagged, sharp teeth.

While she was trying to be as delicate as possible, the lieutenant general knew, Silq closed her jaws around the hood of the arctic camouflage uniform, and lifted her a little too quickly for Olivier’s liking. In doing so, she pulled some of the Armstrong’s hair, earning an angry grunt from her.

What startled the general the most was the fact that, though the beast was not trying to envenomate her, she could smell the sharp tang of venom from the glands in Silq’s jaws, in addition to the blood that stained her teeth from whoever her victims were before Olivier found her.

The ex-military woman lifted her inside, only letting her down from her grasp once she had padded to the far end of the room, as to not lower Olivier onto the glass-laden floor.

“Sorry,” Silq spoke as she looked down at the soldier. “I didn’t really have anything else I could do to get you.”

“Just warn me next time,” Olivier groaned, rubbing the back of her head. “Hell.”

As the blonde took a few moments to collect herself, she watched as the chimera lifted her broad head, her tongue flicking as she tasted the air. She stalked over to the wall, inspecting the paintings and photos that hung in a explicitly careless matter.

“Looks like the avalanche already made its way through,” she grumbled sarcastically, voice deeply echoing on itself.

“I’ve been in this room,” Olivier thought aloud as she began searching as well. “They held the meeting here for the Drachman-Amestrian peace agreement years ago.”

She glanced around the near-empty room, “The desk they signed the treaty on is gone. I’m sure this new regime trashed a lot of this stuff, they don’t care about history.”

“Do you know where the leaders of the coup would be?” Silq asked, drawing a claw along a crack in the wall. It was unknown to them if it had formed recently, due to the extremist’s alchemy, or earlier disrepair.

“I have a few guesses,” Olivier said, reaching backwards to get her rifle. “But I’ll need to see an actual map. There should be a navigations room somewhere near here.”

The chimera nodded, “Want me to go ahead?”

“It would be better if we stuck together. We have no idea what they could be keeping in here.”

“If you mean chimeras,” Silq said, following behind the general as she started for an open door, “There’s not any that I can sense in here. They let most of them outside.”

“Chimeras, soldiers, alchemy,” Olivier replied, her rifle held at the ready as they entered the hallway. It was much more welcoming than Briggs; or, rather, it _was_ at some time. The wallpaper had obviously been primarily a cinnabar color with pale embellishments-- yet as it peeled off the walls, it had dulled, effectively creating a rather dystopian atmosphere.

The stale air did not help.

“What the hell is wrong with this place?” Silq broke the silence, Olivier detecting the first hint of fear she had ever heard from the chimera. “It looks like it’s been abandoned for decades.”

“Alchemy often requires the manipulation of chemicals and elements in order to work, depending on what kind you’re performing,” Olivier replied, her own voice soft as a safety precaution, rather than out of fear. “They obviously don’t know what they’re doing; they probably messed with some of the chemicals in the building’s walls and insulation. They could’ve manipulated the temperature of the building, making the glue from the wallpaper melt… They’ve been given too much power and they’re having the time of their lives abusing it. I’d be careful what you breathe in here.”

“How do you know so much about it?” The other asked, head swinging gently as she followed obediently.

“My little brother is an alchemist. He was really young and excited when he was learning, so he wouldn’t shut up about it. So, I read a bit up on it myself so the conversations wouldn’t be so one-sided.”

Silq was silent for such a long moment, Olivier thought their conversation had ended-- until, she spoke up again, loud with surprise, “Oh, shit, is your brother that huge guy? A major, right?”

“That’s right,” she peered into a dark, torn-apart room. It wasn’t what she was searching for, so she pressed forward. “I don’t think he’s fully fit to be in the military, his heart is too kind and he’s too gentle. But I suppose, nowadays, that’s what this world really needs most, huh?”

“Why would you be nice to him like that?”

This earned the chimera a puzzled look and a furrowed brow from the general, “I care about my family, what sort of monster do you think I am?”

“I mean,” a low rumble drew forth, which Olivier pegged as a chuckle, “I know you have _some_ heart, judging by how you didn’t even flinch when your adjutant kissed you.”

The blonde ignored her, “That avalanche will be on us in less than an hour. We have a high chance of not leaving this building, you know that, right?”

“What sort of idiot do _you_ think I am?” Silq snorted. “Not like I’ve got anyone at home waiting for me.”

Olivier held her tongue; she was sure that was not the case. However, she did not wish to pry.

 

Searching every room they crossed, the two eventually forwent caution in favor of greater speed. The lights of the legislative building had been flickering on and off for a good ten minutes after another alchemical tremor had afflicted the capitol several floors above them; they even heard the next floor from the top crumble, sending debris down from the ceiling.

Olivier stepped inside a pitch-black room, feeling along the wall for a light switch. Finding what seemed like one, she flipped it on, feeling the first wave of relief she had experienced in what seemed like days.

The room before her was dimly lit, as one of the lights was powered off as it hung unsettlingly from wires in the ceiling. However, the remaining one was more than enough for her to accurately get a good look around the room with.

Most of it pertained to navigation around Drachma, or, on a larger scale, the whole known world. Maps were pinned to the walls, some fallen to the ground during the chaos; compasses and multiple clocks, all depicting different time zones. Several desks sat along one wall, with one larger in the middle, similar to her office back in Briggs-- and on these desks lay duplicate maps, all with innumerable pen scratches and map markers.

She didn’t even feel herself move closer before she realized she was touching one particular map with feather-light fingertips.

It told the geographical story of where the rebellion began, in a small town much farther north than the capitol. Signified by scrawled arrows in ink, it showed the extremists’ path to surrounding towns, and where and when other similar mindsets started cropping up in places they had not even visited yet. Finally, all arrows pointed to the capitol, which had been violently circled.

She also did not notice Silq calling her name, nor the chimera padding up quietly behind her, peering over her shoulder.

While many of the non-cartographical papers on the desk were meaningless to Olivier, one substantially worn, hand-written note caught her attention. She delicately took it, lifting it closer to her face to get a good look at it. The writing was smudged, and sloppy, and in Drachman-- but there were a few choice words she was able to decipher.

“What’s it say?” Silq asked, deeply curious.

“Good thing we attacked when we did,” Olivier replied, folding the note and setting it into her pocket. “They were going to storm Briggs soon, to not only invade Amestris, but to deliberately kill Karelia.”

Silq’s white eyes narrowed, and Olivier was sure that if she had eyebrows in favor of her reptilian skin, they would have been furrowed, reflecting her low and vexed tone, “What was stopping them?”

“They were waiting on a shipment of weaponry from Aerugo.”

“Wait,” the chimera’s eyes then widened, her head rearing back slightly, “They’re allied?”

“Apparently so,” The general replied, morose. “Listen, if I don’t make it out of here, and you do, warn Grumman. They may try to retaliate once this all blows over.”

“He wouldn’t believe me, you kidding?”

Olivier picked up another map to study, standing slightly taller once she did so, “Get Miles to help you. And if he doesn’t believe you, tell him that I never forgot my promise.”

Silq tilted her head, “Promise?”

“He’ll know. Now,” the general began, turning to her and lifting the map for her to see. It was printed, not handwritten, so it was pleasantly legible. “This is a map of Kozhurovgrad. Apparently, there’s a series of basements that all lead to one another as a safety precaution in the event of life-threatening natural disasters. This was on top of this stack, so I think it’s safe to assume they used this map recently, and they’re hiding out here. Besides,” she folded that as well, slipping it in beside the note. “Why would they be blowing up the capitol from top to bottom if they were on one of these floors? If anything, they’re somewhere below us right now. They probably did it to wait out that avalanche I’m sure they caused.”

The building shook once again, the lights flickering in tandem.

“That would be our cue,” Olivier piped up, navigating past the chimera to the door. “The nearest staircase isn’t far at all. I wouldn’t trust the elevators with this shoddy electricity.”

“No complaints from me,” Silq replied, trailing behind her.

 

It was even darker down in the basements. Thankfully, all doors were left unlocked, since the extremist leaders had to make a quick escape, Olivier guessed. In addition to lower light, the underground was more damp, both in feeling and scent, which mingled with the smell of blood and rot. All was silent, until her comrade broke the silence.

“They made the chimeras down here,” Silq said, catching Olivier’s attention. Once the general turned back to look at her, she noticed just how tense the chimera had suddenly become. Her head and tail no longer swayed confidently. Her snout was lowered, as her shoulders hunched; her gait shorter and timid.

“Is that the smell that’s making me sick?”

The beast nodded, eyes darting back and forth, somewhat confusing the blonde woman, leading her to continue, “What’s got you so fearful all of a sudden? You were full of piss and vinegar earlier.”

“This is just like the place where I was made into a chimera.”

That explained it, Olivier thought to herself. While, once again, she wasn’t planning on pressing the matter, it turned out that she didn’t have to--

“All I remember is getting gravely injured in the military. I think an arm was nearly severed and my jaw was shattered, or something,” Silq sighed. “I was unconscious for a good while, but the moment I woke up for good, my life was full of pain. They didn’t bother wasting anesthetics on us, so I came to feeling nothing but a pain like I was being torn apart. It was the worst thing I had ever experienced.”

The general was silent, rifle at her shoulder.

“Once I ended up surviving, they stripped me of the uniform on my back and shoved me with a bunch of other work-in-progress chimeras. They experimented on us, physically and mentally; starving us to see how long we could go, if our new animal DNA changed our metabolism at all. Exposing us to extreme temperatures; I did great in the heat, while several others died. When they put me in the cold, I nearly lost my life, too, but they had since learned the limits of their tests after the first failures. They forced us to change, and when they realized the transformation wasn’t as big and bold as they wanted it, they would use alchemy again and again, until they reached their desired results. I’m technically mixed with some monitor DNA as well as gila monster, which is why my form is larger than my human body.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I assume you and Miles are your biggest secret,” Silq said, her shoulders relaxing slightly, as if talking seemed to help her nerve. “I see no issue in telling you mine.”

Olivier found it difficult to feel touched in the dark damp of the basements, yet she was silently appreciative that the monster had decided to confide in her. It only served to solidify her hope of giving this chimera and the others a life that they otherwise would have never dreamed of achieving again.

While the ground below them did not shake, the ceiling did, followed by loud heavy crashing. Though Silq turned her eyes upwards, Olivier continued forward, now unmoved by the capitol’s destruction. She could only hope the battles topside were in their favor.

From afar, a small candlelight flickered calmly, further illuminating the walls of the tunnel. The general and chimera both paused simultaneously, having at the same time recognized what lay before them; what would have been hidden in shadow, if not for the faraway light.

Five bodies lay motionless, in red uniforms.

Rather, white uniforms, stained almost wholly by blood.

While Olivier did not _want_ to look at them, as these were _more_ soldiers she had sent to their deaths, they deserved to be looked upon and remembered for what they were.

She kneeled wordlessly, gently laying a gloved hand on the back of one. She was not hopeful to feel the rise and fall of their breathing, and while she had ultimately been correct in her assumption, it did not hurt to double check. Bullet wounds were visible, but the main sources of the blood were the stab marks, very noticeable due to the tears they left in the camouflage.

The Drachman bodies they had seen on their way down made much more sense now. They had paid them no mind before, but this explained their presence in the dark halls.

“They paved the way for us,” Olivier said, her voice flat as she held her emotions. Silq listening respectfully, she continued; “We will not let their sacrifice be in vain. They carved our way to victory, through their own blood.”

She straightened again, looking back upwards unto the candlelight. The chimera beside her voiced the general’s own thoughts for her;

“They’re farther within.”

Taking great care to not disturb the bodies in their peaceful, eternal rest, the two stepped over them, towards the light. Where it sat upon a stool, the corner of a turn stood behind it; the hallway sharply curving to the right.

As they creeped closer, cautious of who lit the candle in the first place, male Drachman voices came into earshot.

Olivier’s voice was barely even a whisper, “We can’t risk rounding that corner, they could be directly on the other side.”

She felt her hip, searching for a grenade, though she did not find one. With a hiss of anger at herself, she remembered that she had used her only explosive to ward off an advancing swarm of enemy soldiers earlier, even before she had met up with Roy.

“I can take care of them,” Silq replied, attempting to be equally as quiet, though her doubled voice did not lend itself to softness very well. “Your gas mask will work, I was around other soldiers earlier who wore them, and they were fine.”

If that had been said at the beginning of their journey together, Olivier wouldn’t have trusted her. However, now, she nodded slowly, allowing the chimera past her after Silq had seen her affirmation.

She felt the straps of the mask at the back of her head, confirming they were as tight as possible, as Silq drew in a deep breath, chest expanding, head reared.

More so a forceful rush of air rather than a roar, a loud, deep sound burst forth from the chimera’s parted jaws, followed by a continuous thick gust of purple smoke.

As soon as she began, the Drachman voices rose from quiet conversation to frantic, hostile yells, as they spun around the corner of the hallway, rifles in hand. Within seconds, they were shooting at her, unaware of their oncoming death.

Silq backed up into Olivier slightly, lowering her head as she continued emitting the sharp-smelling gas from the glands in her jaws, some bullets bouncing off her bumpy hide, while others hit their mark, burying themselves deeply into the less-armored sections of skin.

The chimera did not seem too bothered by it in the moment, yet Olivier knew that her increased power was not unending, and while she was powerful, her life held the same fragility as the general’s.

Having enough of the bullets raining on her, she stalked forward slightly, just as one of the Drachmans began coughing uncontrollably, dropping his rifle in the process as he clutched his throat, the wet lurches of his lungs definitely expelling blood by the violent sound of it.

One advanced on Silq, a machete in hand, and while he managed to get in a good slice across her broad snout, she quickly snapped him up by his side in her jaws, crunching down.

The noise it made caused Olivier to consider looking away, disgusted; yet she did not, as she readied her own rifle, ending an enemy soldier before the gas fully took hold on him.

While it felt like an hour to the general, she knew the scuffle lasted no longer than two minutes, until all of the enemy soldiers were on the ground, resembling the Amestrian soldiers they had felled.

Silq ceased, panting slightly.

“Are you alright?” Olivier quickly questioned, moving in front of her to inspect her wounds, which were many.

“I’m fine, I can take quite the beating in this form,” The chimera assured, straightening, her movements slightly stiffened. “I’m just beginning to get cold. These heat packs aren’t working as well.”

“We’ll move quickly, then,” the blonde woman spoke, stepping over the bodies. “We shouldn’t be far.”

Now with a noticeable limp, Silq nodded in silence as she began to follow.

 

Checking several other large basement rooms, they found nothing of interest, until there was one final area to search. Having reached it, Silq and Olivier simultaneously peered up at the door.

If they were going to hunker down for the remainder of the war, this would be the place to do so. This door, unlike the others they had passed, seemed more like that of a bunker than a basement. It was not opened fully, but not closed either; having been shut so far that no light shone through, yet the latches were obviously not set in place. It had a vault-like mechanism on it that had been activated and locked, yet their failure to fully seal the door rendered such a security measure entirely worthless.

Ready to storm the room with tooth and claw, Silq crouched as Olivier opened the door. For a moment, she struggled, having not expected its great weight, yet she was able to quickly adapt her approach. Managing to open it far enough to peer inside, it revealed another set of hallways.

Deeming it was safe enough to press on, she set her gloved hands on the locking mechanism, using it as leverage as she pulled. However, the door would open no wider.

“It’s jammed,” she announced quietly. “See if you can open it.”

Before Silq was even able to step forward, light flooded in behind them as a lantern quickly advanced, accompanied by Drachman shouts, and the ricocheting of poorly-aimed bullets off the walls.

And electricity.

Having swung her head around to see what was approaching, Silq quickly turned back to the general, butting into her with her large head, pushing her inside the door.

“Ow, _fuck_! What the hell?!” Olivier snapped as her backside hit the ground with a thud.

“Go!” The chimera spoke loudly, her doubled voice causing her command to sound somewhat like a roar. “I can’t fit through that door, I’ll hold them off!”

“Silq!” The general raised her voice, though it was cut off by the chimera swinging around, using her tail to shut the door as she faced the enemy.

As soon as the door slammed closed, it seemed as if all light left with it. Olivier sat in the absolute darkness, blinking rapidly as her eyes tried to adjust to the new lighting. While the barrier between her and her comrade was thick, it did not serve to snuff out all sound-- she could clearly hear the crackle of alchemical lighting, followed by the roaring of the chimera, and un unexplained thudding along the walls and floor.

She was powerless to open the door, since she did not know of any combination that would open it once again. Standing on unsteady legs, she balanced herself against the wall in an attempt to get oriented with her unseen surroundings. Unable to help the chimera, and blind without a light source, she continued the only way she knew how-- forwards, into the darkness.

 

Time seemed to stand still, as she was unaware of the world continuing on around her. She moved along the wall, which was a straight hallway, until she nearly tripped over a downward step. Following her path without question, she descended the stairs, until they evened out into a flat hall once again.

As her mind got the better of her, her eyes played tricks, causing her to believe that shapes moved maliciously in the darkness in front of her. However, her heart was strong, and as the imaginary shadows danced around her feet, her steps not once faltered. She wondered if this was what it felt like to die, surrounded by nothing, your own being, which had kept you alive and thriving for so long, trying to deceive you.

None of that mattered. She was born to fight for her country, and, in extension, the lives of innocent people. If this was how she was going to meet her end, so be it.

Finally, she came upon voices, though she did not know if they were of her own mind until her vision confirmed that they were not fiction. A vertical slice of light found its way into her sight, in what she immediately recognized was a door.

Without hesitation, she gripped her rifle in one hand, the other removing her gas mask before pushing the door open.

The room was small, undecorated. A small amount of rations lay to one side of the desk that sat in the middle. Upon the desk sat papers; Olivier unable to make out what was scrawled on them due to their distance from her, plus the fact that her eyes had not yet adjusted to the (albeit dim) light of the room.

The chatter instantaneously ceased as three Drachmas all stared at her, in a mixture of fear, anger, and shock. All tall men, each of them had military insignia displayed upon their chests and shoulders, the one in the middle with an army-grade ushanka upon his head.

She did not waste a moment before lifting her rifle, shooting one directly in the chest. He fell, yet the one on the opposite side of their leader drew his pistol, taking shots at her.

She ducked far enough to evade one, yet as she swung around to dodge the second, she failed, the bullet hitting her in the back of the arm, as she raised it to gain momentum as she moved.

Her first thought was not an actual thought, but a feeling. Relief, for it not having hit her somewhere vital. She sped towards him, lifting her rifle again. He hadn’t expected her to advance on him so quickly, so as he gathered himself to shoot once again, she shoved the rifle’s muzzle directly into his flesh, pulling the trigger.

She froze, feeling the cold of metal on her cheek. Turning her gaze to her right, the Drachman general stared her down.

“You’re a clever one,” he spoke, accent heavy. “How did you find us?”

“It wasn’t hard, considering how careless you are.”

He hummed lowly, studying her for longer than she would have allowed, if he hadn’t been a single, small movement away from ending her life.

“You’re smaller than the stories say. They tell of a mighty warrior, capable of tearing down armies, all while your feet are planted firmly into the ground, like a wall.”

“What is your name,” Olivier spoke, just wishing to confirm he was her primary target. She knew he was, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“General Chernyanev,” he grinned and spoke slowly, as if he were proud to say it. “And you, madam?”

“You’re not near dignified enough to hear my name from me,” she glared daggers. “Care to explain to me why your defeat was so humiliating, even though it was obvious you were going to lose?”

“Drachma cannot show weakness,” he replied, pressing the muzzle deeper into her skin, the contact stinging her cheek, marking it. “Respect and power will only be gained through force and bloodshed. The people fear us, so they work for us. Drachma will become great once again, and once we take your wall and kill Czarevna Kozhurov, nothing will be stopping us from taking your whole country, as you rebuild from your little stupid alchemy incident.”

“You know nothing of respect. The people you’ve made to suffer and starve feel no reverent fear towards you. Even if this new regime of yours was to grow, it would never live long enough to flourish. The people will either rise up against you, or your rule will suffocate them, until there is no one else for you to terrorize. ‘ _Your people’_ would rather die than live under you, and you know it-- because that is exactly what they’re doing.”

“Let them,” his smile faded. “Those who are weak will die, just like your soldiers.”

“My soldiers,” Olivier snarled. “Don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“You know, how?”

“I made sure that word became foreign to them the moment they were placed under my command. The day one becomes a man of Briggs is the day they know what true bravery and strength are, and the day they forget, will only be the day they’re lowered _six feet under_!”

She tipped backwards just as he pulled the trigger, the bullet’s breeze felt against her nose as it passed her. Not even having a hand on the trigger of her own rifle, she held its stock in one hand, swinging it upwards and to the side, straight into his elbow. He dropped the pistol due to the force, and rather than retrieving it, he drew the sabre at his side.

She fell back, losing her balance after dodging his shot. As soon as the back of her head hit the floor, her vision danced as a blunt pain shot through her skull. She didn’t even have a moment to blink away the lights that played in her vision, as she barely saw the glint of his sabre swinging down onto her.

Lifting her rifle again, she held it horizontal to her body, at arm’s length away from her, effectively blocking the blade. A crack was heard as he put all of his upper body strength into the attack, and Olivier’s eyes darted down to the rifle to see that it seemed to be beginning to break in the middle, near the trigger.

Frustrated, he withdrew his sword, instead stomping down onto the rifle, snapping it in half, while also crushing her chest as well.

The wind knocked out of her, she rolled quickly to the side to get away from his feet. She made it to her hands and knees about a foot away, coughing and trying to catch her breath, before he advanced again, lifting his foot and kicking her in her face.

As the impact hit her, she saw stars, a high-pitched ringing travelling from ear to ear, straight through her brain. Her nose was numb, and she was sure it was broken; positive that she would be feeling the pain in a moment’s time once the adrenaline dissipated. She saw him retrieve his sword again, so she grabbed her own at her hip, slicing across his leg and causing him to forcefully take a knee, screaming as blood speckled the ground, the red almost appearing black in the dull light of the room.

She stood, head swimming as she fought the urge to allow her knees to buckle beneath her. She balanced herself against the wall with an elbow, suddenly feeling a wet warmth on her upper lip, the feeling soon followed by the metallic taste of blood.

He couldn’t fully stand, most likely due to the new pain in his shin, so Olivier took this moment to attack. Moving on him quickly, she sliced down, cutting a large gash into his shoulder, diagonally across his chest.

She then attempted a stab, but he parried the slice, the Amestrian general reeling for a moment due to the force, not noticing the source of whatever force just hit her in her left side.

Ready to attack again, she looked back down to him to aim her shot, noticing with a sharp shock of horror what had happened.

His sword-- she couldn’t tell how far, since she didn’t know the blade’s length-- was pierced through her side.

Adrenaline too high, her mind clouded, and her vision white as she moved without conscious thought, her sword followed through with her aim as she felt metal cut through thick flesh.

Her mind returning to her, she blinked down at the Drachman general. Her sword was directly through his now-lifeless chest. As she stared, she noticed several other holes-- she didn’t even know she had stabbed him multiple times.

His own sword had somehow found its way outside of her side, and she was thankful for that; though her gratitude didn’t last long. Blood seeped rapidly from the hole in her white uniform, even creating a trail down her hip due to the amount of it. She felt her back in an attempt to see if the sword had travelled all the way through, yet she could not tell; her mind would not let her think, the thoughts unable to be processed.

She took one step, though her legs failed her, and she collapsed to her knees. Resigned to the fact that she was on the ground now, she pressed a hand to the wound, attempting to put pressure on it, as she retrieved her sword with her free hand. She didn’t want to die without her family heirloom.

Then it struck her, the pain searing through her lower body like a burning fire within her. She squeezed her eyes shut and ground her teeth, attempting to keep herself awake and conscious, the taste and smell of metal clouding her senses, making her want to spit and gag. She wanted to lay down, since her head was pounding, but she knew it would do no good.

A loud crash echoed down the hallway outside, but Olivier didn’t have the heart to lift her head, or call out, or even open her eyes. Her mind was too focused on the pain, and the fear.

Heavy steps thudded nearby, shaking the ground beneath her slightly, until the door opened fully, and a large object blocked what light she could see through her eyelids.

Someone was saying something.

Finally, she opened her eyes, her vision doubled for a moment before it focused, still bright with flecks of light.

A great beast stood before her, blood and burns streaking its body. It favored one of its back legs as it trotted heavily to her, lowering its large head.

“Olivier! Can you hear me?”

Olivier. That was her name.

“Silq…?”

“Oh, god,” Silq murmured once she saw what the general was holding, “Let’s get you out of here. Can you stand?”

She shook her head somewhat, swaying gently.

“I can carry you,” the chimera said immediately. “Just... Hold that, okay?”

Gently, she took Olivier in her large arm, holding her against her chest, like a mother cradling a child. Attempting to move quickly while not jostling and shaking her, Silq turned and fled the room, ignoring the pain in her back leg since she now only had three to run on, one encumbered by the Briggs commander.

 

Olivier slipped in and out of consciousness, the rocking of the chimera’s footsteps the only soothing force among the pain and cold she was experiencing. They had made it back into the above-ground section of the capitol building, yet upon hearing a quietly-muttered expletive from Silq, she opened her eyes.

The walls of the capitol building, even the ground floor, were in ruin. Snow piled in some areas where the brick had been completely obliterated; not one wall was without at least several cracks. The creature holding the general looked around frantically for a way out, turning her head back and forth.

“Silq,” Olivier breathed, weakly.

“It’s okay,” Silq replied, panting, her breath leaving her as puffs of cold smoke. “I’m looking.”

Eventually, she found a door that lead to outside, and it was still seemingly intact. Taking a chance, she exited, though the outside area of the building was littered with architectural pieces. Both looked above up-- the sky was not visible; the snow covered them completely, creating somewhat of a dangerous and volatile ceiling.

In hopes of finding a way out, Silq pressed on, but flinched and spun when she heard the rumble of snow shifting behind her, preventing her return back into the building, if she so wished.

“I need to stop,” Olivier spoke.

While the chimera initially hesitated, she pat the snow beneath her flat before setting the general down onto her side.

“You can go on without me if you want,” she managed, unmoving. She wanted to sit up, though her arms and legs had pins and needles. While her heart was thudding rapidly in her chest, she felt no anxiety-- just an eerie mental calm as her body continued to panic.

“Funny joke,” Silq replied, lowering herself to the ground, curling herself around the general as much as possible. “I’m sorry, I’ve got no body heat, even for myself.”

“It’s alright,” Olivier watched the chimera lift her head sluggishly. Since she had not been paying attention to her comrade’s state during their ascension, she hadn’t noticed how slow her movements had become, or how bloodied she really was.

Looking down at her own body, she saw that her hand still sat upon her ever-bleeding wound, though she could not tell if she was still putting pressure against it.

“Just stay awake,” the large creature lowered her head again to look down at her. “Your men will be here soon to get you. I know it.”

“I don’t hear fighting outside.”

“That’s right.”

“They know to leave me. Survival of the fittest.”

She heard the chimera _hmph_ , “Yes, and you’re obviously the fittest, General. You always have been. They wouldn’t leave you even if you ordered them to, I imagine. They look up to you and respect you, and they would all give their lives for you, even if you weren’t ‘ _fit_ ’.”

Olivier did not reply.

“Stay awake.”

“I’m awake,” the general replied, even in her state, able to sound annoyed.

“Good,” Silq laid her head down on the blonde’s shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What sort of things do you like?”

“This isn’t a sleepover, Silq,” Olivier rolled her eyes, sighing softly. “I like dogs, I guess. And I like the cold, typically.”

Silq’s chuckle was weaker than Olivier would have liked to hear, “ _I_ fuckin’ hate it.”

The general smiled gently in tandem.

“What was your promise to Miles?”

“Knowing you, you’ll laugh.”

“I won’t.”

Olivier waited a moment, choosing the correct words. As her mind travelled back to her adjutant, her smile softened, and her chest warmed slightly. She thought of his smile, and his laugh, and his kind words. All those years he stood beside her, supporting her, and how he accepted her from day one.

How he, of all people, loved her. She didn’t deserve him.

“Olivier?”

“I promised him, if we survived, we’d get married.”

“Awww.”

Weakly, Olivier kicked her heel into the chimera’s stomach, though it was more of a nudge.

She felt the rumble of quiet laughter in the beast’s throat against her shoulder, “You really can’t afford to die now, then, huh?”

Silq ended her sentence with a soft exhalation through the nose, and Olivier smiled once again, “I suppose not. That means you shouldn’t either, though. I could use a nice reptilian guard dog at the fort.”

Silq was silent.

“Silq?”

Olivier turned her gaze up, craning her neck slightly to look at the chimera. Her eyes had closed, and, gently, her large head lolled to one side as it rest on the general’s shoulder, the large scaly body cold against her own.

She stared at the beast for a good moment before laying her own head back down. Closing her eyes, she tried once more to feel _anything_ \-- her limbs were now numb, and the blood that had made its way all the way down to her feet from her side was no longer able to be felt. She swallowed-- she could still taste metal, though the sense had greatly dulled.

Letting out a final sigh, she relaxed. Finally, she could rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long. As an apology, it's super wordy, so enjoy :)  
> I kind of likened Olivier's feelings towards what I felt physically when I had a very close brush with death about a year ago, so I hope it's believable enough. Don't forget to leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed <3
> 
> Also, perfect timing to mention this (not really), but if you don't follow me on tumblr, a friend and I are hosting a LivMiles appreciation week. You can find the link to the tumblr blog through the Ao3 collection I made for it, which can be found to the left of the page on my profile :)
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support <3


	23. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a nice month-long break from TNT thanks to LivMiles week, but now I'm back :)  
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter since I _did_ have that good break, so I hope it shows, and I hope you enjoy.

Nearby, the frantic barking of a Drachman war dog caught his attention, catching the breath in his throat; it escaping him as a puff of smoke from his lips.

Swinging quickly to the direction from which the sound was emitted from, Roy was once again made painfully aware of the wound on his hip-- yet, he ignored the fire, having quickly grown used to the sensation during combat. His feet began carrying him, legs numb from exhaustion, towards the muffled barks, now accompanied by yelling in both Drachman and Amestrian. Behind him, he heard the crunch of snow beneath the boots of a boy-- or, rather, now a young man, tired and drained not from combat, but from his hasty arrival from Xing.

The Flame Alchemist noticed the new bite of the frigid air; Drachma had already been cold enough as it was, yet the onslaught of the avalanche had brought freshly-fallen snow down from the mountain tops, into an area where all the white had already settled. Thus, with the dangerous sweep of ice daggers came a newly-found temperature; below what was safe, even when one was as bundled as he was.

He knew Miles was on his way north to them from his post within Briggs after a radio call once the fighting had ceased; yet the optimism he had shown his comrade about the lieutenant general’s condition was beginning to wane.

The combat was stopped about two hours after Silq and Olivier had infiltrated the capitol building, once the advancing Drachman forces were as wiped out as a military force could possibly be. During the battle, Roy noticed, many Drachman soldiers began to turn on their peers, always having been against the regime, yet too afraid to take action, until the odds were in the opposition’s favor. This caused a healthy, significant decline in the northern force, bringing the manpower of each nation to an equal level; Drachma’s numbers having overpowered those of Amestris just by sheer number towards the beginning of the clash.

With only a few commanders to guide them, what remained of the enemy soon surrendered once the avalanche was upon them. The Amestrian army was able to withdraw from the area, taking prisoners and newfound allies with them, but Roy had not heard anything from the Northern Wall of Briggs and her companion. This worried him, but he knew nothing could be done-- he just hoped that she was successful, because if she wasn’t and the leaders of the rebellion remained, there was always the possibility of them gaining another foothold on the country later on down the line.

And while there would obviously be more rebels scattered around the humongous country even in the event of a victory, Roy knew that the bulk of the force had been taken care of, and once restoration efforts began, the remainders of the coup would be swiftly dealt with by what would become the return of the old regime’s military force. It would be restored to what it once was, a great and honest military power, and it was sure to retake its rightful place as such, crushing the defectors that would aim to corrupt it once again.

Now, however, he was grateful for those in the Drachman military who aided in their search for any living beings who had been caught in the avalanche. Not only did this mean more eyes looking out for any signs of life, but a few had been handlers of the nation’s infamous war dogs-- who were now converted to search-and-rescue hounds at the magic flip of a switch. Roy knew that he had mostly succeeded in evacuating most everyone, yet he knew who this search was really for. So did everyone else, he figured, but no one said anything-- because they were all in agreement.

He failed to notice the other soldiers, primarily Amestrian with some Drachmans, heading in the same direction as him. They reached a large mound of snow, and with a sudden realization, Roy realized that it was the covered remains of the capitol building’s ruins.

The large, thick-furred dog was already digging in the snow, unaware of how futile his actions alone were, until soldiers started to join in. The dark-haired alchemist hung back, giving them room as they attempted to unearth whatever the creature had sensed.

After a few minute’s search, a large dark mass was uncovered, its surface covered with beaded, round scales of black and orange.

Moments after, further digging revealed the lieutenant general, half-covered by the chimera, who was equally as frozen as her. Instantly, Roy was on his knees, dragging the petite woman out of the snow as the soldiers around him prevented more from piling onto her.

“Olivier!” He gasped, his body screaming at him to stop, painful with exhaustion. He, however, did not falter as he bent to lay his cheek against her chest, having not seen it rise and fall with breath.

A faint, slow heartbeat consoled him for a brief moment; at least she wasn’t already dead.

Yet, he could not help but notice that she drew in no air, her face a deep pale, plump lips typically adorned in pink, nearing purple. Blood stained her white uniform, spotted in areas, yet leaking heavily from her side all the way down to her leg. Or, it _had_ been leaking-- it no longer was, leading Roy to wonder if it had been the cold that had stopped it, or perhaps there was no more blood left to lose.

“Colonel!” Alphonse called from behind him, panting profusely, having finally caught up to the other alchemist. “Did you find her?”

“Yes, but,” Roy breathed, unable to form a thought. “She’s lost a lot of blood, I don’t know--”

Al was beside him in a second, also on his knees, examining the commander. His eyebrows knit in worried thought as he checked her, putting two fingers to the side of her neck, turning her face to him with his other hand, “I can close the wound, but I can’t replace her blood. I don’t know the extent of the internal damage.”

He gently rolled her over slightly, examining her back-- “There’s an exit wound, so it’s unlikely that whatever sliced her missed anything important…”

“Do anything, please,” Roy panted, watching, helpless. _Useless_. He had lost so much in the past year, he couldn’t lose another dear friend.

The other alchemist lifted his head, their eyes meeting for a moment, before Al got to work. He cleared some snow away from beneath her, creating a flat area.

Roy watched as a circle was drawn. It was a simple one, not much more than the circle in itself, really. He knew from what Edward had once told him that alkahestry, while similar to alchemy, used the flow of life emitted from deep within earth to function, rather than mechanical energy through seismic activity. He supposed that, while Alphonse could transmute without a circle, this array-- which was technically a Purification Circle-- was still required for certain practices.

He watched as blue crackles of light leapt from the snow below to the woman’s body, travelling around the wound still hidden by torn shreds of uniform and to the injury’s exit behind her. After he felt as if he had observed for long enough, Roy straightened, wobbled for a moment before gaining his balance again due to his own blood loss, and called to some men nearby to bring around one of the trucks equipped with medical supplies. He knew they had to get her back to Briggs as soon as possible in order for her to receive the treatment she needed; all still-standing Drachman facilities nearby inadequate for such a grave emergency.

The truck had pulled up in a matter of a few minutes, yet to Roy, it felt like hours. Once the alkahestry had been performed, he had found himself down at her side again, speaking to her softly, trying to keep her awake, if she hadn’t already fully slipped out of consciousness.

“Don’t you remember how you’d say I was going to die first, because of how reckless I am?” He rasped, watching her closely, searching for any signs of life.

“What happened to that, huh?” The chuckle that came from him caught in his lungs, causing him to cough lightly. “I know how much of a hardass you are, you’re _so_ god damn stubborn. You can’t let those big words end up a lie, right?”

She gave no semblance of a reply or acknowledgement, leading Roy to panic slightly.

“What about Briggs? You’re the only person in this whole army with the guts and the skill to lead it. What about _Miles_?”

Nothing.

The rumbling of the truck’s engine startled Roy slightly as it halted near them. Several soldiers came round, and, with Roy’s help and Al’s observance, they lifted Olivier and brought her inside. Spreading out a thermal blanket, they laid her down flat, positioning and bunching up the fabric to somewhat keep her from getting jostled on the bumpy ride back south.

“Everyone return to your posts back at the checkpoint,” The Flame Alchemist stuck his head out the back of the truck, shouting orders. “Continue with cleanup--”

“Sir,” A small voice spoke up from the side of the truck, and upon craning his neck to look over, Roy recognized one of the men Olivier had chosen for their infiltration party. He was short, but well-built for his young age, his sandy hair sticking to his forehead in places due to the sweat. Roy didn’t doubt that he looked equally as rough right about now.

“What is it?” He questioned quickly, voice laced with haste.

“The chimera,” Cordova continued, pointing a gloved hand to the dark mass of snow. “We can’t leave her here.”

Roy, grasping a support that stuck out the back of the truck, leaned out of it, laying eyes on the reptilian creature.

“The general wouldn’t let you, if she was awake.”

A beat passed. Unwilling to argue and, more so, aware that this young soldier was correct, Roy relented. While he did not wait for the second truck to arrive, he did exit the vehicle, creating a fire near the chimera after a few soldiers were able to drag over the wooden remains of what seemed to have been a desk from inside the building. He informed them that her body temperature was most likely the problem, since it seemed as if the injuries she sustained were not near severe enough to bring down a creature like her. They started doing as they were told, and Roy instructed the driver of their truck to head for Briggs, making haste.

 

On their route south, they crossed paths with many soldiers travelling back and forth from the battlefield to Briggs. Many of them, despite their tiredness, speaking loudly and merrily to one another, in celebration of their victory. However, once they realized the contents of the truck, with its small caravan of an escort, the atmosphere quickly turned somber.

During the drive, they meet up with the truck that Miles was in; him quickly transferring vehicles.

Roy, already numb and unfeeling out of fatigue and worry, had never expected the Ishvalan man capable of sobbing as much as he did.

  
  


\---

  
  


Shapes danced in her field of vision, startling her whenever one’s movements would be just too swift. The gentle, darker shapes were the ones she preferred, not those clad in white, since they seemed to reflect light, and it stung her, even behind her eyelids.

She often heard voices, yet they were distant, and muddled as if she were underwater. She remembered nothing, and was not even fully aware of her existence. When in her most awake state, which was still next to nothing, she would not make connections, mentally. She was too tired; all her mind knew was that it wanted to rest.

So she allowed it.

 

Eventually, she felt contact. Finally stirred enough to put forth the effort, she made sense of her physical form. She found her hands after a short endeavor, since they were but pins and needles; one was at her side, the other on her stomach. She tried to wiggle her toes, and was partially successful, which sent feeling slowly creeping up her shins and legs. With this, she now knew she was beneath a blanket, and there was something else, something foreign, on the hand that rest on her.

Drawing in a deep breath, she felt the blanket against her chest, not pressing down on her, but present. A muscle in her calf twitched involuntarily, and paying it no mind, she focused on her hand.

A rough thumb gently brushed her knuckles, the methodical motion comforting her, yet also waking her further; making her more aware of herself. She was real, and she was here. But _where_ , exactly, she began to wonder.

Finally, she opened her eyes, waiting a moment for the bright flecks of light to leave her sight. The shapes that swam around her were still only shapes, yet now, they were more defined, and she could make out a figure.

“Olivier,” a deep, warm voice spoke up just as she was closing her eyes once again, about to rest. What brought her back was the immediate realization of who the voice belonged to.

“Miles,” she breathed, no sound initially coming from her. She tried to clear her throat as gently as possible, though her head felt heavy, and the attempt caused a pulse of pain to thud in her temples. Then, she repeated herself, her voice now audible, yet scratchy.

She heard him heave a sigh of relief, saw the dark shape of him stoop down closer to her as he rest his forehead against her chest, “Olivier, you’re finally awake.”

“Sorry,” she croaked, watching him, unable to see the features she had always found so handsome, yet aware that they were there, and grateful for it. “What happened?”

“You were found buried beneath snow outside of the Drachman capitol building,” Miles responded, now taking her free hand in both of his, the warmth of him successfully giving Olivier some solace. “You had lost a lot of blood, Doc said you went into hypovolemic shock, paired with the onset of hypothermia.”

She could hear him swallow the breaking of his voice; almost able to hear the lump in his throat as he spoke. Even _his_ voice was hoarse, yet she did not know the cause of it had been the prior crying.

Though she didn’t particularly feel like talking, Olivier wanted to continue the conversation, solely because it was with _him_ , “Are you okay?”

His short laugh was not mirthful, but filled with sadness and worry, “Are _you_?”

“I’m just,” Olivier took a moment to draw in a deep inhale, exhaling afterwards. Her lungs were asking for more air, and while they were tight and breathing was difficult, she wanted the heavy feeling in her body to leave her as soon as possible. “Tired. The way my mind is working right now… It’s the same feeling of when you’ve run around all day, and when you finally get to rest, you’re asleep before your head hits the pillow. In that, you sort of forget the last portion of your day.”

“What’s the last thing you remember, love…?”

“I was trying to talk to Silq, but I just sort of… faded.”

With her vision slowly returning to her, she was finally able to look her partner in his red eyes, “Is she okay?”

“Without her shielding you from a majority of the snow, you probably would have died,” Miles responded, shifting slightly in his seat. “She had hypothermia, but her injuries were not near as bad as yours. They warmed her up enough that she could consciously transform back; now she’s in the showers being monitored by medical staff while she continues to get her body temperature back to normal.”

“Good,” Olivier turned her hand palm-up, in a position where she was able to hold his. This brought a gentle smile to the Ishvalan’s face; him taking his other hand and setting it against her cheek affectionately.

The warmth was nice on her still-cold skin, so she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes once again.

“You dying was never part of the plan, my dear.”

She smirked weakly, “Is it ever, in our line of work? I was successful, wasn’t I?”

Hearing the warm rumble of his own laugh strengthened her smile.

“You never change.”

She exhaled gently, giving him a quiet and amused acknowledgement, before turning her head slightly, burying her nose in his palm. To her surprise, uncharacteristically for her, all her mind craved right now was comfort.

Miles seemed to understand, so he held her face in silence, allowing her the rest she so desperately needed. After a few minutes, she spoke up once again, her voice muffled;

“How long has it been?”

“It’s been about twelve hours since we found you. It took about three to get from Kozhurovgrad to Briggs, so you’ve been here for about nine or so. After about an hour’s worth of tests, they started the blood transfusions and other dosages. I’m not sure what all Doc gave you, but you got a lot of stuff intravenously. They’re just taking it slow and being very careful.”

It had felt like an eternity to her.

She could hear his awkward smile as he continued, “But you’re still having the transfusion done. I wouldn’t look down at your arm if I were you, since you’re still on the needle and everything. I know how you hate that stuff.”

Even in her state, Olivier managed a shudder.

“Alphonse made it from Xing, he stopped the bleeding with alkahestry.”

“Is he still here?”

“Yes, he’s been given a spare bunk to stay in. He didn’t want to leave; he wanted to make sure you made it.”

“I’d like him to come visit soon, so I can thank him.”

Miles nodded, continuing;

“Roy was the blood donor once you got here, he immediately volunteered once he heard what type you were--”

“ _Ew_ ,” Olivier rasped dramatically. “Take it back. I don’t know where he’s been.”

Miles laughed, finally sounding happier than when she had first awoken, “You don’t really hate him that much, do you?”

The lieutenant general grumbled reluctantly in reply.

“Still, you should thank him when you see him again. He was really worried about you, too. He really does consider you a good friend of his.”

“I suppose I will,” the blonde sighed gently.

“He’ll be going back down to Central with everyone else soon,” her adjutant continued. “He wanted me to ask you if you wanted him to see if he could get his promotion ceremony postponed so you could attend. I think he really wants you to come.”

“What, so he can rub it in my face that he’ll be a higher rank than me?”

“It astounds me that you’re still able to keep up the sass, feeling as bad as you do.”

She knew his sarcasm was out of amusement rather than annoyance, so she allowed herself a small smile, “I’ll think about it.”

“He’d also like you to be there when he and I discuss Ishval.”

The smile faded, and Olivier was silent for a moment.

“I had forgotten.”

“I, personally, don’t want to think about it right now,” Miles responded, leaning down close to her,

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked up at him once again. Her gaze, vision now sharpened, was now able to fully make out his features.

He looked so tired.

“I’ll stay here with you however long you need me to,” he continued, voice soft, as his eyes searched hers. “Even if it means never going to Ishval, or never leaving this infirmary. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

She knew what she wanted to say, yet she did not act on it. She had mulled over her answer to this idea many times, and mentally rehearsed her response in order to most accurately portray her feelings.

She wanted happiness and fulfilment for him, but in this moment, all she wanted was _him_ . She always tried her best to be selfless, yet if _this_ was selfish of her, then she did not want to even bother caring right now.

“We’ll discuss it later,” she finally said, gently squeezing his hand that she still held. “I know you’re tired.”

His knowing smile warmed her heart, “I haven’t slept. Doc has let me stay by your side since we arrived, and for that, I’m grateful.”

“By all means, get some rest,” Olivier spoke, her voice tinged with worry. “I’m fine now.”

“I just…”

He paused, sighing deeply.

“I thought I had actually lost you this time. You always fear of the worst happening, and, like you said, especially in _our_ careers, it’s an ever-present threat. But…”

His red eyes shone.

“When it actually happens… I couldn’t think, or form a thought. I couldn’t even breathe. It was like my entire life ended, and physically, I was still alive, but… I felt like a shell, like I was looking in on a dream and observing from the outside.”

Olivier was at a loss for words. All she could manage was an apology.

To which, he shook his head, leaned forward, and planted a kiss onto her forehead. Noticed with a glimmer of hope that she had begun regaining the color in her face.

“If it ever happens, Miles,” she said, voice soft, only spoken to him. “You must promise me that you _will_ go on. You can’t give up.”

His sigh shook as he stifled tears, “I promise.”

Satisfied with his answer, she closed her eyes once again, getting comfortable before more rest. Feeling a new weight beside her, she figured that Miles had leaned down onto the infirmary mattress as well. She would have offered him a place fully beside her if the bed hadn’t been too small for two.

Still, she was pleased that he was finally allowing himself to rest as well. She heard him sigh deeply as he settled down; felt the soft nudge of his nose against her cheek.

 

They were victorious, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this maybe made someone cry :) that would mean I'm a successful author
> 
> As always, please don't hesitate to leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed <3
> 
> We only have one chapter left, so it would mean the world to me. Thank you all so much for 1000 views, I can't begin to explain how grateful I am :') I love you guys.


	24. Home (Reprise)

As the sun ascended the next morning, it ushered in with it a new era of historical concord between the nations of the bear and dragon. 

Almost immediately after necessary surgeries were done and once healing began, Olivier was on her feet, much to the disdain of the medical team overseeing her recovery. When no eyes were on her, she would convince a rather hesitant Miles to accompany her down to the mess hall, IV drip casually in tow, to go eat things she most likely was not advised to. She struggled to gain back her independence, though the severe as-to-be-expected pain and weakness always served to humble her, so she often allowed her companion to make trips to and from the infirmary in her place. He brought her snacks, paperwork she insisted on doing, and visitors to her, once they received the okay from medical staff for such socialization.

The days were long and boring; Olivier constantly finding that sleep was much more difficult to achieve now than the days she had been hard at work. This was possibly the longest healing time she ever had to experience, and, frankly, she did not enjoy staying still. Visitors, however, often helped calm her nerves, and they provided her with a window to the outside world that she had so desperately come to crave, to her bemusement. Alphonse visited first, on the fourth day of her healing. After talking at length with the head doctor about science and medical things Olivier nor Miles understood, he came to greet the lieutenant general-- who would soon honorably return to her original rank-- and her adjutant. 

First, he had politely asked to see and evaluate his handiwork, since the alkahestry had been rushed, with good reason. After both soldiers expressed their sincere gratitude for his help, he brought them a transcription of the audio broadcasts that had aired once the fighting had ceased. 

They praised Briggs as a citadel of the highest caliber, the men there heroes, and the general leading them, a paragon of military power. 

To which she had snorted.

Claiming it had been her men who had done all the work, not her. She was simply the means to an end, not the bulk of the force with which the battle was fought. Yet, she did not act alone.

The chimera was the next being to request audience with the incapacitated officer. She sat opposite to Olivier, speaking with her as if Silq had not wanted all of the soldiers of Amestris dead just a month prior. Not only was there a newfound sense of equality in their conversation, but the blonde woman could even sense the smallest hint of respect.

She offered Silq a place at Briggs, “I could always use a big, scaly guard dog around here.”

Yet the chimera chuckled, “Nah, the cold ain’t for me.”

With which the ex-soldier took her leave, with the general’s reassurance that new opportunities would be available for her and her fellow beasts, upon the upholding of their zero-crime agreement. 

Roy attempted to visit her, yet she stubbornly pretended to be asleep, so the alchemist initially spoke with Miles about the Briggs officer’s condition-- until his second try, when Olivier swallowed her pride and agreed to see him. He kept her up to date on the workings of the military, now that Drachma was without a government for the time being. To her surprise, the Amestrian government had temporary means put into place in order to secure Karelia’s rule, yet they held off making any permanent decisions without her. They requested that she be a part of the executive board of what would soon become Drachman foreign relations, and they were awaiting her recovery so that she may travel to Central and weigh in on the legislature they were currently drafting. 

Roy told her that soldiers had been stationed in Drachma in order to protect the citizens in the case of a new political uprising in the wake of the fallen coup, and that measures were being taken so that Karealia and her family could be put in power as soon as possible after they were deemed safe in their own country. Pleased with this, Olivier gave him further instructions on what should be done, and thus, he travelled back down to Central to relay her message, so that rebuilding could begin without her immediate presence on the board. They would get the ball rolling so things would not have to stall for her healing, and once she was ready to travel, the true reconstruction of the northern government would begin. 

With that being said, Olivier finally allowed herself to take it easy, to finally heal. 

Several weeks passed, until her and Miles went southwards to Central, Stryker once again in charge of the fort in their absence. In all honesty, Olivier had not expected the welcome they received-- both civilian and military. Her family doted on her as they unexpectedly greeted her at the train station, along with a good-sized group of soldiers preparing for an escort, including Roy and Riza. Olivier, being the woman she was, pushed away her family’s attention; embarrassed by it, while Miles was ever-calm and polite to them. Miraculously, no one seemed to notice how close the two stood side-by-side, or how Miles would slip his arm around the general’s waist during car rides. 

Olivier was not surprised when Grumman offered her a permanent rank as lieutenant general, especially seeing as how she would soon be appointed a place on his board when it came to foreign relations. Initially, the first word out of her mouth was her declining the invitation, though her adjutant quietly convinced her to think on it a bit more. Stryker had proven himself to be capable of leading Briggs, so while he would take a bit longer to fully master everything that came with leading a fortress, Miles reminded Olivier that her job would soon become the easiest it had ever been-- and perhaps her finely-honed skills would soon be needed elsewhere. 

This was all done in private before Grumman was to step up onto the stage, presenting the newly-promoted soldiers with their ranks. Among them was Roy, whose general rank was now set in stone. 

After the ceremony concluded, the formal event celebrating the promotions began. The major general and her adjutant budgeted their time carefully; they would make an appearance in support of their fellow troops, but not for long-- for they had another ceremony to attend.

Few people knew, and Olivier had made sure that it stayed that way. While she had never entertained the idea of a public, flashy wedding, she knew Miles would have liked it to be less secretive than what it was-- so she promised that they would have a large celebration in Ishval, with his ancestor’s traditions, perhaps in the next year or so when the reconstruction was underway. Yet, for now, they both agreed that this was best. 

Not wanting to ask her family for help, the general turned to Roy, who was more than happy to find them an officiant. The ceremony was short and calm, and most of all, under the radar. 

Not once had they mentioned rings, until Miles stopped her from standing once the officiant left the room. 

“What’s wrong?” Olivier asked, eyebrows furrowed as she wore a slightly anxious expression, having no idea why he had stopped her. 

“Nothing! Nothing,” Miles smiled back at her, his own nervousness apparent. With one hand on her arm, he guided her back down to her seat beside him, his other hand nestling into the pocket of his uniform. They had wasted no time in arriving at their own elopement, so both of them still wore the mess dress uniforms they had donned for the promotion ceremony, considering the formality of both events and their timing. 

Initially, she saw him retrieve something from his pocket, yet she was unaware of what it was-- until he spoke again, when it all made sense.

“I know we.. Didn’t really talk about rings, but--”

“Miles, you didn’t.”

His smile strengthened, “I know I don’t have a lot of money, Olivier, but I wanted to get you something. You don’t have to wear it, but I wanted you to have it.”

He showed her the box in his hand, still touching her arm; the contact affectionate and relaxed. After a moment of dumbfoundedness, Olivier realized he was offering the small box  _ to _ her, so she delicately took it from him.

Upon opening it, she saw that the ring was a simple golden wedding band-- no adornments or designs decorated it, save for a bright and all-encompassing shine. 

He must have noticed her staring at it, since his warm chuckle was the only thing to break her from her trance, “I know we weren’t able to go the whole nine yards, and, I mean, since you didn’t get a showy military wedding with a saber arch and everything… I don’t know, I just want it to be a symbol for us.”

She cut him short from his speech by hugging him tightly, causing him to grunt in surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, of course I’m going to wear it,” She exhaled a laugh. Letting go of him, she lifted a gloveless hand to his cheek, her gaze half-lidded in adoration. Their eyes met, and she recognized the shininess in his red irises that she had grown very familiar with-- yet, this time, they were happy tears. 

“The ceremony, the saber arch, the reception.. It’s fun and all, but that means nothing to me, and you know it.”

“I know.”

“We’ll have to get you a ring, too.”

“I mean, the frat laws aren’t abolished yet. Grumman’s working on it, but I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Olivier sighed gently, “Then we’ll get you one right before you go to Ishval.”

They had not yet discussed the restoration with Roy, but sensing that her decision was already made about the whole ordeal, Miles simply smiled and nodded, accepting that he had her blessing to go to assist in rebuilding the homeland of his ancestors. 

“I’d be happy with that, my dear.”

This brightened Olivier’s expression slightly, before she dropped her hand to place the ring on her finger, “You’ll have to ask Scar to tell you about all of the Ishvalan wedding traditions. He still wants to be a priest, correct? He could help us.”

The major took her hand gently, regarding the jewelry and how it looked on her, a quiet and dignified symbol of their union, “That’s right.”

She leaned forward slightly, touching her forehead to her adjutant’s, “Then, once you get the ball rolling, we can have a full ceremony there, if you want. We can actually invite people and have a real celebration.”

“We’ll see,” he hummed amusedly. “I’m content with this for now.”

She smiled in tandem, “So am I.”

 

About three weeks later, the logistics involving Ishval began. As a result, Miles stayed in Central to plan things out with Roy, while Olivier was soon called back to Briggs to assist with Drachma. She quickly became an active diplomat between the two countries, deciding when and where Amestris would send men, supplies, and loans to its northern neighbor. The large country got back on its feet rather swiftly, and while the government was still fragmented, aid from Central had cause to lessen, due to the growing demand for aid in Ishval-- so Olivier stepped up, even travelling to Kozhurovgrad on several week-long trips. While there, she discussed things with Alexei, Valera, and other government officials-- both newly-appointed ones as well as several older, who had been imprisoned under the previous regime. They asked her more than the major general would have thought; while the officials  _ were _ well-versed in government affairs, they relied on her greatly for her input. Instead of causing her to doubt their abilities to govern, it made her consider Miles’s words once again-- that, perhaps, she  _ was _ needed somewhere else. 

She had never thought it in her to serve as such an effective diplomatic leader, yet with each day and each new Drachman-Amestrian conversation, in addition to Stryker’s increasing competence as an officer, she mused about taking up Grumman’s offer to permanently promote her. 

And, perhaps with the new generation of soldiers in training to become Briggs Bears, maybe it was not only Miles’s time to move on to a new calling, but hers as well. 

She decided their final meeting before Miles’s relocation to Ishval would be a good time to let him know about her decision. She had other important things to inform him about, after all.

 

Olivier had forgotten how quickly time flew, after being bedridden for so long due to her injuries. Before she knew it, it had been a month since her and Miles had parted ways, yet it was now time for them to meet once again. 

While Miles had been utilizing the spare quarters in Central Command during their time apart, they arranged a hotel stay for the two of them so that he and Olivier could spend three days together before his journey. Since the war, the railroad from Resembool to Ishval had deteriorated and decayed, so once Miles and his crew of soldiers was let off at the small farming community’s train station, they had a long trip on horseback through the desert ahead of them before they would be arriving in the ruined outskirts of Ishval. That, plus Olivier not having a break from her diplomatic duties until very recently, resulted in them not having much time to themselves-- but they were grateful for the little time they would have, either way. 

Despite not feeling too well on Olivier’s part, she and Miles had a nice, peaceful visit. For a short time, they were able to simply be a couple-- they went out and ate together every night, they took walks. Once, all they did was lay in bed and talk before using the latter third of the day to pack Miles’s belongings. 

It was all very relaxing, and very fitting for what would come to be the last time they saw each other for quite a long period of time. They did not know how long the visits to Ishval would last-- but they decided that, if they were too long for their liking, Olivier would be able to take off a few days of work in the future to visit him, or vise versa. Short visits were better than none at all, they decided. 

On the fourth day, they slept in late, enjoying the company, before they left for the train station at around noon. 

“Oh, shit,” Olivier piped up as they walked side-by-side, their bodies close. 

This earned a questioning noise from the soldier at her side. 

“I forgot to tell you. I thought about what you said, about you saying I may be needed elsewhere.”

“Yes?”

“Nothing’s set in stone yet, but... I think I’m going to talk to Grumman about taking that rank. Stryker has become very skilled at commanding in such a short amount of time, and everyone in Drachma really seems to be relying on me for my input about what to do. I can’t imagine why; I always thought I was awful at diplomacy, but I suppose I’m not as worse as I once thought.”

She gently took his hand, a gesture that he returned, “Is that so?”

Olivier nodded, “It’s strange having people actually respect and listen to what I have to say without me screaming it at them, for once. The Drachmans seem rather trusting of one another; once Alexei and Valera told them about what kind of leader I was, they seemed to have no trouble listening to me, even though I was their sworn enemy not half a year ago.”

“That’s good to hear,” Miles squeezed her hand gently. “You think you’ll be okay?”

“That’s what I’m waiting on deciding,” the woman sighed. “I’ve been at Briggs for the majority of my adult life, I don’t know what I’ll do without it.”

“Without the cold, the bears, the danger…”

Olivier gave an amused hum, “Exactly.”

“Well, you know I’ll support you either way,” Miles flashed her a calm smile. “Looks like this may end up being a new chapter in both of our lives, after all.”

The general nodded, “Something interesting happened, actually. I got a call from a woman named Viveca.”

“Who was she?”

“Well, I didn’t recognize the name at all until she introduced herself as Viveca Halifax.”

“She was Aksel’s mother?”

“ _ Mhmm _ , I guess it makes sense that she called, but I wasn’t necessarily expecting it... “

“What did she say?”

“She thanked me for retrieving the necklace from Aksel, since Miller and Foster were able to get it to her safely. They also told her about what we did with his body, and she expressed her gratefulness to us not just letting it sit in the snow and freeze over.”

“I’m glad we were able to help her, then. I’m sure this has been a very difficult period of mourning for her.”

“You won’t believe what she said next, though.”

They stopped at a light, allowing automobiles to pass, so Miles took a moment to give her a curious glance. 

“She said that her entire family has given its life to serve the military, but now that her husband and son are gone, and the military is now becoming a source of protection rather than a threat in the eyes of the citizens, she wants to serve it.”

Miles’s eyebrows raised, “Wow.”

“She just requests that she serve directly under me.”

The major-- now a lieutenant colonel-- smiled, “That’s an honor.”

The general returned his smile, her demeanor calm, “I told her that she could become my secretary, since I’ll be needing one in Central if I go down this path. She was pleased with that, I think.”

“Well, well,” Miles mused. “Guess I’ll be out of a job under you, then, huh?”

He chuckled when Olivier playfully bumped her hip against his. 

“Speaking of Aksel,” Miles continued, regaining his balance after her attack. “I ran into Foster and Miller a few weeks ago. Miller seems to be moving rather well with his automail, albeit a bit slowly.”

“Better to take it slow than to rush his recovery and not fully heal,” Olivier spoke, matter-of-factly.

Miles nodded in agreement, “They’re both considering transferring here.”

She gave a  _ hmph _ , “With Foster gone, that’s one less person to keep Stryker in line.”

“What makes you think that? Can’t Henschel keep a close eye on him?”

“He needs someone to build him up and give him confidence; the kid doesn’t need an older soldier breathing down his neck. That’s why I feel like he’ll do well, since he’ll be among peers  _ and _ long-time Bears simultaneously. He can set the example while learning and growing at the same time. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure his nerves don’t get to him-- I feel like his only downfall will be by him losing sight of his goals due to the pressure.”

“You were young when you took lead of the fort, too, though.”

“And I made  _ so _ many stupid mistakes that could have been avoided, especially considering the foreign hostilities at the time. This lull in fighting will give him time to adjust, I just want the men there to make sure he doesn’t get too comfortable.”

Miles nodded once again, and with that, their walk went on in comfortable silence. 

They arrived at the train station shortly after their discussion. Miles’s train was present, yet it was being loaded with supplies, so not many passengers were boarding quite yet. 

Letting go of Olivier’s hand, he reached into his pocket, gathering up his ticket. He glanced down at it in silence, reading the current date, checking for the fourth time that day to make sure the day was correct for him to leave--  _ April 5, 1916 _ .

Seeing the date seemed to remind him of something, since Olivier noticed him perk up slightly, “Alphonse has been keeping in contact with me.”

“That’s nice. What’s he been saying?”

“He actually told me that Winry and Edward are expecting a child. Isn’t that great?”

Olivier blinked, expression unreadable. “They aren’t married yet, are they?”

“No, but Alphonse told me that after the baby is born, they plan to get married immediately.”

“I hope no one gives them shit for that. I know if I was their age, my family would disown me.”

He chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I think they’re on good terms with the situation. I expressed the same concern as you, but Al told me that their parents weren’t married, so even if they were still alive, they wouldn’t have minded. And Winry’s grandmother is happy for them.”

“That’s a relief. I know far too well what high family standards can do to someone, especially at their age.”

“Right?” Miles absentmindedly looked at his ticket again. “They sound very happy, so I’m pleased with how everything turned out with them.”

Giving a small nod, Olivier grew silent. 

She felt his red eyes on her as her own blue stared forward, watching the other passengers as they began boarding the train. 

“Is something wrong?”

She felt the unfamiliar pang of her stomach tying itself in a knot, though neither her expression nor her voice wavered. 

“It’s just funny you should mention that. About Winry and Edward.”

“Why?”

The silence that she let hang in the air began to worry him. 

“You’ve always wanted to be a father someday, right? That hasn’t changed?”

Any traces of lightheartedness left Miles’s voice, seriousness overcoming him, not wanting to be toyed with once the realization hit him.

“Of course it hasn’t. Why are you asking this…?”

“I was just, um. Making sure.”

He touched her shoulder, turning her to face him, “Olivier.”

Their gazes met, and for a moment, her eyes searched his.

Then she smiled. 

“Well, I was having my routine physical with Doc… And it seems like you’re going to be one.”

His hand gripped at her coat sleeve, noticeably trembling, as Olivier watched the lieutenant colonel’s expression melt from suspicion and disbelief into pure adoration. He gathered her up in his arms suddenly, catching her off-guard as he lifted her feet off the ground in an embrace. 

He choked back a sob, “How long have you known?”

“A little over a month.”

Rearing back in shock, he gently set her down, “And you didn’t tell me?!”

He hadn’t expected her happy laugh, “Why are you crying  _ again _ , you big lug?”

She had thought she would get a quick retort in reply, yet his laugh echoed hers as he lifted a sleeve to wipe his eyes, jovially placing his face in his palm, “This is kind of a huge deal, Olivier! You…”

His voice quickly faded, growing embarrassed as he lowered his hand; “You don’t know how much I’ve thought of something like this happening..”

The general gave him the small hint of a knowing smile before he continued, “How are you feeling about all of this…? I know your opinion on having children is… Different, from other women your age. If this isn’t what you want, you don’t have to--”

She set a hand against his chest to silence him, her touch so light that the contact was only made with the pads of her fingertips, “This is different than what my family wanted for me-- what they nearly  _ demanded _ for me. You were my choice, not theirs-- and now, this is my choice, too.”

Her words allowed his smile to return; he sniffled in an attempt to stifle more tears, “Well, if you wanted me to stay, now you have me.”

To his surprise, she shook her head, “We both have duties to attend to. You’re needed in Ishval-- you’ll just have to visit me more often than we discussed.”

He began to interrupt, yet she shushed him quietly before continuing, “I insist, Miles. They need your guidance. There have been concerning radio transmissions coming from Aerugo, and Grumman has asked me to expedite my decision on my promotion so I can help if need be.”

Miles was silent for a short moment before his tense shoulders relaxed, him exhaling a deep sigh in understanding. 

“This is the goal you’ve been reaching for since joining the military,” Olivier continued, her voice softer. “You need to seize this opportunity and do what you were born to do. Okay?”

Reluctantly heeding her words in silence, Miles bent slightly to her height, before drawing her close and allowing their lips to meet.

It wasn’t passionate, but tender; a goodbye, but a promise that this was not nearing the end. He drew back, touched his nose to hers, and smiled;

“Yes, sir.”

 

With that, he gathered his luggage, stealing one final kiss from the Northern Wall of Briggs before boarding the south-bound train to the torn land of his kin. She waved him off, bidding him farewell in his restoration efforts, watching the train slowly rumble to life before crawling out of the station. 

She sighed, immediately attempting to think about work. Her decision was made; now she simply had to inform Grumman, and afterwards, she would pick up copies of the Aerugan transcriptions to study more closely. Yes, that would keep her busy and take her mind off of Miles. 

Yet, her attention wandered. As she began the trek back to her hotel, she reflected. 

She wasn’t feeling as alone as she thought she should. After announcing her and Miles’s future as a family to him, it all seemed  _ real _ now-- more so than when Doc told her during her physical, despite it being  _ very  _ real then as well, the doctor seemingly getting instantaneously protective over Olivier. As if the general needed any protection; she had enough to defend both herself and her child. 

She knew that, despite missing her just as she would miss him, Miles would be happy. For perhaps the first time, he would be seen in Ishval as someone not unlike them, and he now had the opportunity to absorb some of the culture whose absence had caused a rift in his identity. She knew he felt a brotherhood between himself and Scar, and he and Roy got along, so he would be in good hands. This would be his calling. 

And yet, she began to question if her calling had been reached yet. Was it being the general of Briggs, or would it be being the chief foreign diplomat of Amestris? Would it be something else entirely, or was it an opportunity she had in her younger days that had somehow slipped past her?

Either way, she decided, one thing was for sure-- with the rise and fall and rebirth of nations, in addition to the new family she was creating with the man who stood at her side as she became a military power, an old chapter of both world history and her personal life had ended; and in its place, a new one had just begun. 

  
  


 

 

**The Cross Fade Part 1 - The Northern Theatre**

**~ End ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so emotional right now. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this fanfic, it's been such a big deal and all of your support has been so important and special to me...
> 
> This is the last chapter, but I'm not "completing" the fic yet since I'm going to add one final chapter that'll just be a afterword shortly, later today once I'm home and settled. Since it's 730 am and I haven't slept yet LOL. I've kinda got a lot to say haha. 
> 
> I love you all, and thank you <3


	25. Afterword

 

Hi. Where do I even begin, hah.

So some of you guys probably know the whole backstory to TNT already, since I’ve talked about it in some of the asks I’ve gotten on Tumblr in the past-- but just in case anyone’s missed those or if you only know me from this fic on Ao3, I’ll go ahead and talk about it again, since I feel like it’s kind of important. I’m acting like this a huge important novel I’ve published or something LMAO but I don’t know… I just kind of want to talk about it since this whole journey (and _fuck, was it a journey_ hahaha) has been very important to me, and I’m gonna get kind of personal in this afterword, as a warning. You honestly don’t have to read this if you don’t want to since it’s just me rambling but if you decide to stay, thanks haha.

So I don’t exactly remember when I started actually writing TNT, but I know I posted it first to ff.net on December 22, 2014. I had toyed with the idea for a long while, and a big majority of the first third of the plot was influenced by roleplays I had been a part of. I had been roleplaying with Olivier as my muse with my irl best friend and on Tumblr for quite a while, and while I eventually stopped rping on Tumblr, I’m still going strong with my friend LOL. All that to say, that’s where the whole idea of Drachma starting shit again and Karelia being “adopted” by Liv and Miles came to be. In original drafts, I hadn’t expected to finish the fic since I just had that basic idea, and honestly, it was just gonna be very short, with the ending being Liv and Miles just going WELP and keeping Karelia, but then I thought about the implications of how they got Karelia in the first place and the effect it had on Drachma as a whole. Then, I thought, like… Most events in Brotherhood had closure of some sort, at least when Amestris and Xing are concerned. While Drachma DID have such a bit part in the series compared to those, I got to thinking-- Kimblee and the Homunculi seriously got Drachma to break their peace agreement, and even though it canonically had been fragile _before_ the events of the mangahood, this had to have just _fucking shattered_ that peace, right? So, the rest of the fic sort of developed from there.

Now, my writing process _sucks_ . I always have a beginning and end, with no middle, and whenever I plot out chapters, I have very basic overarching ideas; I literally just had a note in my phone with bulleted, incomplete, chronological sentences about ideas I had on the fly. So, as a result, many of the OCs save for the Drachmans were a little unplanned until the last minute up until their introductions. Now, I worked super hard on the Drachman Infiltration Crew, and I’ll link their google doc with my planning of them here at the bottom of this afterword since it's kind of amusing-- I did a ton of research on them. Most, if not all, military characters in FMA are named after military machinery, so all of Da Boyz are named after military machines of some sort. So, Errick Stryker is named after the IAV (Interim Armored Vehicle) Stryker, which (I’ll save you from googling it) is an armored, eight-wheeled fighting vehicle; Aksel Halifax is named after Halifax-class frigate ships, and Northrop Foster and Lewis Miller are named after the Foster-Miller TALON, which is a small remote-operated combat/recon vehicle-- get it?? They’re together because their names are combined with that vehicle?? I thought that was clever. Anyway, if you didn’t realize already, I’m throwing formality out the window and this is going to be a stream of consciousness so that I don’t forget about anything I want to mention. That being said, the boys were all very thoroughly planned-out, down to their appearances and their specific specialities, like Miller being the Special Ops Medical Sergeant and Sikorsky being the Special Ops Communications Sergeant. All that being said, Silq was _not_ planned at all. She was a happy accident; I wanted to make a chimera OC so I made her and I was so immediately in love, I wanted to use her in something. If you guys remember, on Tumblr, I was fretting about including her since I had already put in so many OCs, but you guys ended up loving her and supporting her character so much, I’m planning out a backstory spinoff for her. So, that’s thanks to you guys, haha. I’m very thankful I had several of you constantly commenting on the chapters as they came out, because it was from talking and interacting with you guys where I was able to take some ideas and mold them into new things.  <3

Back on track, I’m really happy that I was able to focus so much on the military in this fic. I had to do a ton of research and memory-digging for a lot of the things I referenced, it’s crazy. I was in JROTC in high school, which is like… A pre-pre military training thing (the “pre” being ROTC), even though it wasn’t any sort of recruitment. It’s main deal was to teach kids responsibility and discipline while teaching about certain military stuff. Like, for my school, our branch was based on the air force, so we learned about the history of man’s flight and the mechanical and scientific side of aircraft, which I loved since I liked planes. Thanks to that, there was a lot I was able to reference through my writing that I didn’t need research for. I’m glad I was able to do that, since I feel like, in a way, I may have been able to expand on the military lore of FMA a little? I don’t know if it showed a lot, but I enjoyed adding things like the Briggs aerosanis, which weren’t in canon, and the ‘mess dress” uniforms I talked about in the final chapter, which are basically just what soldiers wear to formal events. It was also really fun being able to reference the kind of guns and tanks that were used in the anime by name, though that was also thanks to the FMA wiki. THEN we get to Drachma and its form of government and all of the towns that were covered-- I just adore worldbuilding, so making up all of the names for shit was very fun. In addition, and what is most likely the biggest point of me saying this, is I’m glad I was able to expand on Olivier and Miles’s characters. We don’t see a lot of them in the mangahood, and what we _do_ see of them, the situation is always dire, since the Briggs arch is arguably where shit starts to get real. The poor souls are never able to sit down and enjoy the garbage coffee, you know? So, it was a little difficult trying to explore certain sides of their character (especially the romantic ones), given that they’re both very serious people. Olivier was the most difficult in that regard, since I wanted her to be as in-character as possible while still allowing herself to slowly fall in love, to warm up to the idea of a baby thanks to Karelia, and so on. Telling me that she and/or Miles (and Roy, too, since I seemed to really make him a smartass in this LOL) were so in character in any given chapter always made my whole day.

This is also the first big writing project I’ve ever finished. At the end of 2016, I graduated high school, and I went to college-- but only for two months. I won’t go into super detail because I don’t want it so sound like I’m asking for pity, and I don’t want this to turn into some sob story, but this fic (and my increased pursuit of art) was very cathartic for me. I had to drop out after two months because of a chronic illness I didn’t know I had that, without exaggeration, nearly killed me-- it’s the inspiration I used for Olivier’s POV in chapter 22 and 23. Since then, I’ve been out of school, just working my part time retail job (save me) and my creative content. I’ve looked back on that event a lot, and while it made my depression a whole lot worse than it was before, it did bring some good--- I’ve improved more in this past year with my art than I think I ever have in a given amount of time, and without this year (which will eventually be two years since stuff happened and I wasn’t able to re-apply this semester orz) break, I absolutely would not have had the time or energy to write this. So, I guess some good things can come from absolute shithole situations like that one.

When I was young, I wrote a lot of original fiction (always about animals because I didn’t like people,, haha) but it was always just an overall idea. There was one I wrote about dinosaurs that I really enjoyed, that was kind of Warrior-cats-esque, and I’m literally laughing as I type this because it sounds _so_ dumb but I was like ten so I gotta cut myself some slack. Well, that one died in a computer crash that not only killed it, but a lot of my early digital art, so I went fml and gave up writing for a while, before I started roleplaying. I enjoyed it so much, since it’s basically collaborative writing, that I got into fanfiction… But it was all Hetalia x reader trash, so I’m not going to cut myself any slack with that. Make fun of me as much as you want, haha. All that to say, this was my first work that wasn’t stupid in theory? Not only that, but none of those early fics were ever finished. So, that being said, not only the fact that this fic is complete, but that it’s _so long_ and it _survived_ for so long is fucking huge for me. I am the worst about putting myself down and giving up stuff when it comes to the content I create, and it gets worse when I don’t get any feedback on it. I know I shouldn’t be this way, but peoples’ opinions of my art or writing can literally fuel me to either press on and keep going, or flat out give up if there’s a lack of. It just lets me know I’m doing something right, and if people enjoy it and I can make other people happy (or sad, in a I’ve-broken-their-heart-way, lol), I’ll continue. I guess what I’m saying is, even if it evokes emotion out of one other person in some way, it’s worth it.

That’s why I’d like to shout some people out.

First, I’d like to thank (I’ve done it before and you guys know I love you but I want to do it here too hehe, also I’m gonna link Ao3 profiles, and Tumblr if they don’t have Ao3) [ stellar-parallax ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarparallax) , [ Illidria ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria) , and [ NorthernWall ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernWall). Each of you have done so much for me, and your endless support has meant the world and more to me. Without you guys, I sincerely doubt this fic would have lived past that first third I mentioned. Whether it was commenting on every chapter that came out after you started reading, or talking to me about the fic, or even just listening to me rant about what I’m doing that’s TNT-relevant, I can sincerely say that I consider you some of my closest online friends, and I’m so grateful for you guys. You three are all so talented and I love you guys so much and I’m so excited to continue reading all of your work <3

I know life gets in the way, but even leaving a few comments, sending me a message about my writing, or reblogging any of my posts about it meant so much <3 [ D31taf0rc3 ](http://d31taf0rc3.tumblr.com/) , [ deathscytheeevee ](https://deathscytheeevee.tumblr.com/) , [ princessmononokefightingadragon ](https://princessmononokefigthingadragon.tumblr.com/) , and [ rizahawkaye ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rizahawkaye/pseuds/rizahawkaye), I appreciate all of your words so much <3 Each of you have, like, capslock-yelled such sweet things about this fic and it’s made me so happy!

Then there’s [ pumpire ](http://pumpire.tumblr.com/), my irl best friend I mentioned earlier. Thanks for all of the fluffy Karelia stuff you helped me plot with, and more so, thanks for being the Miles to my Olivier for so many fucking years now LOL. Rping has always been a sort of cathartic for me, so I’m glad we’ve been able to make these stories together for so long.

And lastly. CD64. I don’t know you or where you are out in the world, and I’m not posting this afterword to ff.net, but I still hope you see this someday. You were the only person to comment on my fic back when it was only on ff, save for like 3 other single-comment people, and even if your comments (or “reviews”, as they’re called on there lol) were brief, you were the sole person who kept it going back those years ago. This goes to show that, if you enjoyed a fic or a piece of art, please show your appreciation and comment and/or support it beyond a like or fave. A single person can do so much. Thank you.

I promise the next longfic I finish won’t have this long dumb afterword at the end, I just wanted to say some things since this fucker has been in the works for years and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into it. To those of you who have been following this fic in silence, I _adore_ you. It’s because of you this fic hit over 100 kudos and 1000 views, and honestly, every single one of you helped me. I sincerely hope every single one of you has enjoyed this fic up until the end, and that my writing did the Fullmetal Alchemist universe justice. I hope you all were able to feel what the characters felt, and you felt as if you were on this journey with them.

 

I also hope you continue to enjoy my next works and wherever this fanfic-writing takes me, and do take note of what is at the end of that last chapter, after the art… I’ll see you guys then ;)

 

[The Northern Theatre Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mplc1jjt5mmvrge4839lw59dc/playlist/5Wq89fq7CaOxDiF3CeyWYr)

[TNT Side Characters Planning Document (since it's kind of goofy)](https://docs.google.com/document/d/10mQ-TPycb-PkSyr0oMbqlcwE-yRx8WnXVrwhIzXdzs4/edit?usp=sharing)


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